


Far from Heaven

by ali_aliska



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Depression, Flashbacks, Heartbreak, M/M, Mature Sexual Content, Memories, Memory Loss, Not Clint Friendly, Not Steve Friendly, Not Wanda Friendly, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Tony Stark POV, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Winter Soldier as a Separate Personality, bucky barnes pov, but not to death, loss of a loved one, not team Cap friendly, split personality, things get worse before they get better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-03-24 09:08:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 67,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13808031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ali_aliska/pseuds/ali_aliska
Summary: Bucky Barnes falls asleep with the man he loves in his arms. In their bed, in their home, safe and sound.He wakes up in the cold room of the cryostasis chamber in Wakanda to the worried faces of his former best friend and King T'Challa.Everything that happened in the past six months— his pardon, his recovery, Tony's forgiveness, falling in love— he's told it was nothing more than a fevered dream, conjured up by a broken mind in cryostasis sleep.The second chance at life he worked so hard to embrace. A newfound family and a place to call home. Tony, the love of his life and his whole world. All gone in a blink.Bucky Barnes breaks.~~~A "what-if" canon divergence fic for my story "Winter's End".





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Enmuse (Scifiroots)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scifiroots/gifts).



> This is a "what-if" fic for my main story "Winter's End", based on the question "What if everything that happened to Bucky in WE was just a cryostasis dream?" This is the angsty result (flashbacks will be WE canon, but the rest of this doesn't impact the main story).
> 
> If you're interested, I'd highly recommend reading WE first (and being caught up through Ch. 50, otherwise there are spoilers). You might enjoy this fic on its own, but you'll probably miss out on some of the context/backstory. 
> 
> Either way, **please heed the tags** and take care when reading. The first half of this is basically an angst fest (the working title of this fic was "Dumpster Fire from Hell") and it reads a lot like a Major Character Death fic because Bucky essentially loses Tony.
> 
> However, happy ending is guaranteed. I'll make it all better. _Eventually._ To that end, while I've tagged everything that could be a potentially upsetting topic, I didn't tag _everything_ because I wanted to keep how the fic will end a relative mystery (it won't be a bad surprise because happy ending!).
> 
> I'm gifting this to Enmuse because this whole fic is entirely her fault and she enabled me and all the terrible things I did to Bucky every step of the way.

_“Hey there, darlin’,” Bucky murmured against Tony’s temple as he wrapped his arms around the man and settled onto the bed. Tony tried to turn around so they could face each other, but Bucky just tightened his grip on that slim waist. Tony huffed a laugh, but stopped and relaxed against him._

_“Finally decided to join me, huh? You were taking forever in that shower, thought I’d have to fall asleep all by myself over here. Either that, or stage a rescue,” Tony teased, to which Bucky responded with an affronted scoff._

_“I’d never let ya go to sleep on your own, doll. You know I love it when you’re all tired and groggy and sleep-warm.” He pressed a kiss to the man’s exposed shoulder. “Love holding you when you’re relaxed like that.”_

_“Mm-hmm, sure,” Tony hummed, “you mean you like it when I’m all relaxed and blissed out after all the_ other _fun things that we get to do in this bed.” To prove his point, Tony deliberately wiggled back against Bucky, his ass pressed so perfectly against Bucky’s groin that he had to muffle a groan against Tony’s back._

 _“Stop that, sugar,” he reprimanded, “you know we both have to be up early tomorrow. I’ve got, ah—” Bucky’s breath caught as Tony moved again, “I’ve got the newbies to train and you have to present that speech in front of the UN. And you_ know _we won’t get any sleep if you keep this up.”_

_The wiggling stopped and while Bucky couldn’t see it, he would bet money that Tony was pouting. To distract the man and simply because he wanted to, Bucky sneaked his flesh hand just underneath Tony’s tank top so it could rest over the softer belly. Tony squirmed again, just a touch ticklish, but his mirth settled into a happy sigh and Tony’s hand found its own way to rest over Bucky’s._

_“You always gotta have your hands on me, don’t you?” Tony murmured and already his voice was laced with the first hints of sleepiness and a relaxed sort of contentment, the same sentiment that filled Bucky the brim in that moment._

_Even the Soldier was at peace in the back of his mind, but Bucky was hardly surprised. While the Soldier may have been a manifestation of Bucky’s anger and need for vengeance, there was no room for any of that here, not when they were about to fall asleep in the bed they shared with the man they loved more than anything in the world, their clever Tony Stark, their_ solnishko _._

_The Soldier nearly purred his happiness at the thought and Bucky couldn’t disagree. They were exactly where they belonged._

_They were home._

_Tony tried to move out of his embrace again and this time Bucky let him go, but only because he knew what would follow. His boyfriend flipped over so he could face Bucky and then those sure hands buried themselves in Bucky’s hair and guided him close._

_Tony’s mouth on his, tasting of mint, with the scratch of that stubble a perfect contrast to those soft lips. Tony’s hand, skirting down to rest against Bucky’s jaw, to keep him exactly where Tony wanted him as the man kissed him, thoroughly and deeply. Tony’s body, pressed against him, warm and solid, a thigh wedged between his own, the uneven rise and fall of his chest as they both became breathless. Tony himself, pulling away just so he could smile that sly little smile and tease Bucky about the quiet, needy moan he may have let out when their lips parted._

_Bucky didn’t mind. Kissing Tony, touching him, being with him… It was the most familiar thing and yet, every time, it felt a little like the first time._

_And when Tony smiled again, this time with genuine, open affection, when he looked at Bucky with_ love _in his eyes, Bucky’s chest ached and the warmth inside it expanded to take his breath away._

_Another kiss, just a gentle press of Tony’s lips, and then the man was settling back and pulling at one of the blankets until it had covered them both._

_With them pressed together like this, comfortable and warm, it didn’t take more than a few minutes for Tony to fall asleep. Bucky closed his eyes too, allowing himself to fall into restful sleep as well._

_After all, he was right where he was meant to be._

***

The fact that his eyelids were as heavy as lead was the first thing Bucky noticed when consciousness began to filter back, slow as molasses. His eyes wouldn’t open and the darkness surrounding him clung to him, pressed down on him until it was _inside_ him and he couldn’t pull in a breath.

The second realization was the fact that there was no warm, smaller body pressed against him, no steady hand settled against his hip, no steady rhythm of breath that woke him each morning.

Bucky was alone and it was so damn _cold_.

He wanted to say something, call out for Tony or ask Friday to adjust the temperature, but just like his eyelids, his lips wouldn’t— _couldn’t_ — move. Everything was stained with the darkness pressing against him.

His third moment of consciousness was punctuated by a jolt of fear— _panic_ — as tension ran throughout his entire body. 

He just needed to open his eyes—

There were distant murmurs, voices he couldn’t recognize. Shuffling of shoes against the floor, mechanical beeping—

_No, no, no, it couldn’t be._

Bucky just needed to wake up, it was all just a nightmare. All he needed to do was _open his eyes_.

“Mr. Barnes?”

_A nightmare, just a nightmare._

Panic clawed at his insides, even as the darkness finally began to recede, taking the bone-chilling cold along with it. 

Warm air washed over his exposed skin, heat flooding back into his body, but something— _everything_ — was so very wrong. Someone else called out his name now— _no, not just_ someone _, he knew that voice, but it couldn’t be him, why would it be_ —

Bucky opened his eyes and that panic turned into terror.

Above him, a sterile, white ceiling intercepted by the worried, but smiling face of his once best friend.

“Hey, Bucky,” Steve said, but then that smile pulled down in a frown, “hey, hey it’s alright. You’re okay. I know it’s a little disorienting, but I’m right here.”

He must’ve see the fear in Bucky’s eyes, but all of those reassurances barely registered over the roar in Bucky’s ears as his brain tried to process the scene around him. His breath picked up, short bursts as he tried to pull in air. Adrenaline flooded his system the next second and he was scrambling up so he could get off the bed—

Pain flared in his right arm— _why were there tubes connected to him?_ — but neither the pain nor the blood stopped him from ripping out the IVs—

“Mr. Barnes, stop this! You are hurting yourself!”

 _T’Challa_ , his brain registered, but this was wrong, everything was so fucking _wrong_ — 

He scrambled off the bed, pushing away at Steve, but then Bucky lost his balance, tripping and failing to catch himself, dizzy from the blood pounding in his head and disoriented from the dozens of pounds missing from his left side.

_What the hell was happening?_

“Bucky! Bucky, stop this, it’s okay!” 

There were hands on him and on sheer instinct, Bucky scrambled back, each move still uncoordinated and barely under his control. His eyes darted wildly between Steve and T’Challa who stood further away with several other men and women in white coats. Steve had his hands outstretched as if trying to reach out.

“What the hell—” was all Bucky could manage before he was overcome by a painful coughing fit. God, those three words felt like goddamn knives against his throat, but he tried to ignore the pain. “What the hell is going on?” 

Bucky finally found the courage to look down to confirm what he already knew. “What happened to my arm? Where’s—” This time it was sheer panic choking the words back. “Where’s Tony?”

Steve’s face contorted into a grimace.

“Tony’s not here, I promise. You’re safe, Bucky, he can’t hurt you anymore. You lost your arm in the fight when Tony blasted it off. That was over a year and a half ago. You’re safe,” he repeated, but all the words did was dial the panic up a notch.

“What happened to me?” Bucky demanded again, giving the small white room around him another wild glance. “Why the hell am I here?” He kept backing away because Steve kept trying to approach him, but now his back hit a wall and he pressed against it, feeling like a caged animal. “This wasn’t— I fell asleep—”

_I fell asleep next Tony, at home, in our bed._

The words got lost in his throat as pain, wretched pain, shot up his spine and he curled in on himself. He cried out and stars danced before his closed eyelids. For a moment, it felt like every damn atom of his body was on fire and out of place, as if someone shoved every broken bit of him into wrong places.

“He’s in pain, why is he in pain like this?” Steve’s worried voice barely filtered through over the blood pounding in Bucky’s ears.

“The awakening after cryostasis is a delicate period, he should not have gotten up so quickly. Mr. Barnes,” T’Challa was addressing him now, “you must calm down. Your body needs time to adjust. You are safe, you are in Wakanda—”

“No, no, no,” Bucky shook his head desperately, “how can I be in Wakanda? I fell asleep— I was with—” Another wave of pain and then he was throwing up, but there was nothing in his stomach, so it was only acid that burned his throat as his body expelled it. He choked on the acrid taste, but his body continued to dry heave.

A solid, warm hand on his shoulder, but it might as well have been a red hot iron and Bucky swung his arm out on instinct, trying to fight off that weight. He didn’t want to be touched, he just wanted—

“Where’s Tony? I need— Please, I need to—”

_I need to speak to him, he’s looking for me, I need to find him._

Why couldn’t he get the words out? Why did it feel like every movement, every word, every _breath_ was wrong and out of place? Every damn part of him, out of alignment.

Steve was way too close when Bucky managed to open his eyes again— _eyelids so heavy that even that one simple act was a struggle_ — but Bucky couldn’t get away. There was nowhere left for him to go, crowded as he was on the floor against the damn wall.

He heard a keening, desperate noise and his sluggish brain took far too long to realize that he was the one who made it

 _Pity._ There was pity in Steve’s eyes as the man lowered himself onto his knees in front of Bucky. Not a scratch on him— _must’ve dodged Bucky’s poor attempt at a swing_ — with his hands outstretched again, still treating Bucky like a spooked animal. 

Bucky’s barely focused gaze darted back to T’Challa. The doctors from before were gone, replaced by several of the Dora Milaje, who now flanked their King on each side. One of the women was holding a syringe.

“We need to sedate you, Mr. Barnes,” T’Challa said, likely in response to Bucky’s expression contorting with fear. “Your panic is causing too much stress on your body. We have no intention of hurting you. We are only trying to stop _you_ from hurting yourself further.”

Bucky kept shaking his head. “I need to get back home, I need to find Tony,” he mumbled, but the words came out as slurred nonsense. Even his damn tongue refused to cooperate, but miraculously, he finally found the strength to get back up on his feet (his legs barely held him up). 

“Please, I don’t need—” God, why were his legs shaking as if he hadn’t used them in months? “I don’t need drugs, drugs don’t work—”

_Tony smiled and shook his head. “Your resistance to drugs is ridiculous. We could pump you full of horse tranqs and all it would do is make you groggy. Good thing we have Strange to give us a little magical assistance with your arm surgery.” The smile widened as Tony’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Can’t wait to see you put that bad boy into action.”_

“Buck, it’s okay, we just want to help you calm down, you’re hurting yourself—”

“Who brought me here?” Bucky demanded, forcing some semblance of coherence into his words. “Was— was there a fight? My arm— and Tony—”

Steve shook his head and there was that pity again. “Honey, you’re just confused, that fight was over a year ago—”

 _“Did you miss me, honey?” A soft press of lips and wandering hands finding their way to Bucky’s waist. “Sorry I had to spend the night down at the lab, but Pepper has herself a brand new product line and you… well,_ you _have me all to yourself now.”_

“—Tony’s clear across the world, he can’t hurt you anymore, he’s not here—”

“Stop saying that,” Bucky managed through gritted teeth, nearly choking on the lump in his throat. Everything was so damn _wrong_ and he didn’t understand why— “Why do you keep saying that? I was— I was in New York, I had my damn arm, I was with—”

“He’s obviously remembering things out of order,” Steve ignored him to turn to T’Challa, “he’s remembering things before the war.”

T’Challa sighed, but nodded his agreement and motioned for his guards, who moved as one as they approached Bucky. Steve moved as well, albeit trying to look less threatening. 

Five against one were the kind of odds Bucky beat all the time, but here and now—

The Soldier was a muted shadow of anguish and confusion at the back of his mind, his body refused to cooperate, his arm was gone—

Steve and one of the women pushed him back against the wall and Bucky didn’t bother fighting them. There was no point, not when he could barely _think_.

The sharp pin prick of the needle in his neck barely registered and whatever drug they used on him, it spread quickly because it only took seconds for Bucky to feel his body give up entirely, filling with lead as the drug coursed through his veins. His legs collapsed under him, but two strong arms around his shoulders caught him and lowered him gently onto his knees.

“It’s okay, I got you, Bucky, I got you,” Steve kept repeating, brushing a hand over Bucky’s hair. Words of comfort, but they didn’t help and Bucky tried to shake his head. Small, weak movements was all he could manage.

“Help me, please…” 

The words slurred yet again as a haze descended over his already fragmented mind. He closed his eyes and the rest of the tension drained out of him, the entirety of his weight now held up by Steve.

“Tony…” he tried to say, but his lips wouldn’t move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will probably end up around 35k-40k, likely 15+ chapters. Updates every other day!


	2. Chapter 2

_The movie must have been entertaining because everyone else in the common room was focused on the action in front of them, but all Bucky could concentrate on was the warm weight on his right side. Tony’s eyes were closed, the lines of his face were softened with sleep, and Bucky’s gaze drifted down to the pair of lips he spent nights fantasizing about, parted now as Tony let out small huffs of air, inaudible over the explosions and dramatic dialogue on the screen._

_Tony lasted about twenty minutes after the film began, spending the time whispering criticisms of the movie, both scathing and hilarious, into Bucky’s ear. However, it had been a long day of superhero crime fighting for the engineer and his eyelids began to droop long before the hero on the screen had the chance to face his own villain for the first time. When Tony’s chin began to bop as the engineer stubbornly fought his body’s attempts at sleep, Bucky coaxed him over to his shoulder with a gentle hand. Tony gave him a token grumble, but went willingly, going so far as to nuzzle into Bucky’s shirt as he made himself more comfortable._

_It didn’t take long for Tony to fall asleep and Bucky was too entranced with the man to care about the movie after that. While Bucky knew, without a doubt in his mind, that he was in love, he wasn’t quite so sure about Tony’s feeling. Not yet anyways. This_ thing _between them, it was still a tentative, unexplored thing and Bucky couldn’t know where it would actually end up. He wanted_ everything _, but for now, this was enough. Being a part of Tony’s life, learning more about the man each day, knowing that Tony was comfortable around him. It wasn’t the first time Tony had fallen asleep next to him, and for any other pair in the world, this may have been a simple enough gesture, but with their history… Every time this happened was proof that Tony trusted him and that alone filled Bucky’s heart with hope._

***

Tony’s image faded into the darkness and Bucky came to with a whimper. He stifled the pained moan that threatened to follow, willing himself to be quiet and still.

The heart monitor somewhere to his left kept up its slow, rhythmic beeping.

His body remained heavy— _sedated_ — and his mind wasn’t much better off, but he needed to think, to figure out what the hell was going on before facing the rest of the world.

For a few long minutes, all Bucky was did was take deliberate, measured breaths. Slowly and deeply, letting the oxygen clear some of the fog settled within him. 

_One, two, three…_

The first two or three counts kept getting interrupted as his mind slipped back into the fog, but by breath four and five, Bucky managed to count all the way up to eight and then start all over again.

The murky haze began to recede, but the realization that came next was that it was too damn quiet in own his head. A normal state for healthy people who didn’t get to spend seventy years as a brainwashed Hydra puppet, but a bad sign for him, given that the last time this happened, the last time the Soldier disappeared, Bucky became a barely functioning version of himself. 

The drug-induced lethargy paid off for once, muting the panic that he should’ve been feeling at the thought that the Soldier might be gone. Bucky retreated back into his mind, reached back to see if he was really, truly alone.

A mental sigh of relief when the Soldier responded, feeling just as sluggish and disoriented as Bucky did.

_What the hell kind of drugs did they have in Wakanda?_

It took several more long, agonizing minutes for both the Soldier and Bucky to gather their wits, to muster even a ounce of their usual self-preservation instincts, but thankfully, the world around them slowly began to filter through.

The smell of antiseptic, the quiet whir of machinery, the cooler air. He was obviously in Medical, presumably still in Wakanda.

That part made no sense— _he fell asleep in New York, why the hell would he be here?_ — but given the frequently bizarre lives of superheroes, there were several plausible explanations, so Bucky let the point go, for now.

What else did he know?

His mind was still on the fritz and he felt like absolute hell, like someone broke him into tiny pieces— _again_ —  and then shoved them right back, all crooked and backwards. It wasn’t a true physical pain, but the sense of _wrongness_ lingered and made him want to crawl out of his skin. He lost his left arm and his right arm ached, but he could detect no other injuries.

What else?

King T’Challa and Steve were both here. The King said Bucky had been pulled out of cryostasis. The fight in Siberia was a year and a half ago. 

That last part was the only thing that made any damn sense. 

He needed answers. 

Finally, Bucky let his eyes open. As expected, he was in a small, sparsely furnished room, dimly lit and home to not much more than his cot and medical equipment. The Soldier catalogued the rest of the details, all the exits, lines of sight, every potential weapon within their reach, albeit much slower than usual. Bucky hated feeling like this. _Vulnerable_ , with his usually sharp mind and instincts so dulled.

He looked down to see his bandaged right arm— _that’s right,_ _he injured himself when he pulled out the IVs_ — but he couldn’t move it because a metal cuff around his wrist had him secured to the frame of the bed. He pulled at the cuff experimentally, then again with greater force. It didn’t budge.

He wouldn’t have been surprised if both the cuff and the frame were made out of vibranium—

_“I finally got that raw vibranium from his royal kittiness, so I hope you’re ready, James. I’m going to build the crap out of this arm.”_

Bucky had to close his eyes and let out a shuddering breath as Tony’s voice echoed in his mind. He struggled to accept the fact that the arm— _so much time and effort on Tony’s part_ — was now somehow gone.

Goddammit, he needed to contact Tony, why was he wasting his time with this shit? 

The Soldier didn’t speak to him, rendered mute by whatever the hell happened to Bucky’s mind, but Bucky could still feel his agreement. _We just need Tony._

Not finding anything that could be used as a communication device, Bucky was debating whether to call for help, but someone must have been monitoring his room because it wasn’t even a minute before the door swung open.

Steve entered first, followed at a more sedate pace by the King.

Before Bucky could do more than blink, Steve was already at his bed, settling a heavy hand on Bucky’s blanket-covered knee.

“Hey there, sleepy head, glad you’re awake. Feeling any better?”

Even without words, the Soldier’s displeased growl could’ve easily been interpreted as a desire to rip the arm touching Bucky clean off.

“M’fine, Steve.”

While Bucky didn’t particularly _want_ to remove anyone’s limbs— _not that he even could, given his current state_ — this sure as hell wasn’t how he envisioned his reunion with Steve to be. 

Even without all of the resentment Bucky had stored away over Maximoff and Tony and all of the questions he wanted answered, he was disoriented and vulnerable right now and he had no idea what the hell was going on. He had to contact Tony, above all else, so the last thing he needed was wasting time trying to explain to Steve what exactly Tony meant to him now.

His eyes fell on the King. “Can I—” Bucky had to stop to clear his throat, trying to cough away the dryness. Thankfully, Steve pulled away and made himself useful by handing Bucky a cup of water. He drank it greedily and when his throat was no longer lined with sandpaper, he tried again.

“Can I speak to you in private?” He directed the words at T’Challa, pointedly ignoring the hurt, confused look on Steve’s face. 

T’Challa regarded him for one long moment before nodding. “Mr. Rogers, could you please give us a moment?”

“But I need to—” 

“I’m sure the two of you can continue this visit later. Now please,” the King motioned with his open hand towards the door, “we don’t want Mr. Barnes under any more undue stress.”

Steve’s face clearly said he wanted to protest, but when he turned back to look at Bucky and was met with Bucky’s best severe frown (Bucky didn’t have to try hard, given the circumstances), he nodded reluctantly and left the room with a huff, promising to come back soon.

When the door closed, Bucky could breathe just a little bit easier.

“Thank you,” he inclined his head, “I need some damn answers and having him here wouldn’t do me any good.”

The King didn’t comment on that, but he did pull up a chair so he could settle in more comfortably next to the bed. 

“I can help anyway I can.”

Bucky snorted. “Don’t need much. Just get this off me—” he rattled the cuff against the metal frame, “and get me on the first flight back to New York.”

Something about T’Challa’s furrowed brows set off alarms in Bucky’s head. 

“New York?” The confused delivery of that question didn’t help either. “Mr. Barnes, I understand that you— you were from Brooklyn, correct? I understand you view that as your _home_ , but—”

“No, that’s not it—”

“— and please, do not take this unkindly, but you are still a fugitive.”

_Fugitive?_

“What are you talking about? T’Challa, you’re the one who told me about the pardon.”

The confused look didn’t dissipate. “The pardons? I’m surprised you know about those, but for the time being, nothing about the pardons is remotely official. At least not yet. I suppose it will ultimately depend on the US election results in the upcoming weeks.”

Bucky wanted to scream. Why were they were having two completely different conversations? 

“Why are you saying this?” The panic that had been kept at bay by the sedatives was finally rearing its ugly head. “I was pardoned! I’ve been pardoned for months! Since— since May— I’ve lived at the Compound since May!”

This time, T’Challa didn’t respond right away. Instead, the man scrutinized Bucky for a moment, eyes narrowing in contemplation. 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? I need answers. I fall asleep in my bed last night, I wake up here, across the world, with my fuckin’ arm gone, and— and—” he had to stop because something in T’Challa’s eyes made the panic in his chest expand even further and it _hurt_. His only hand clutched at the sheets, a desperate attempt to anchor himself.

“What the hell is going on?” Bucky asked, a raspy whisper this time.

T’Challa tried to give him a reassuring smile. “Cryostasis is an incredibly complex procedure. Even here in Wakanda, the process _is_ the actual cutting edge of science. Our understanding of what the body undergoes when it is inside the chamber is incomplete at best. However, with our cryostasis techniques— and I’m uncertain whether this was true for the procedures used by Hydra— but the brain never truly shuts down. As such, it is common to dream.”

Bucky’s lip curled on an angry snarl. “T’Challa, this is insane. Why are you lying to me? I’m not crazy and I sure as hell wasn’t dreaming. Just— Just get Tony on the phone, okay?”

T’Challa seemed surprised. “Tony? As in Tony Stark?”

When Bucky slammed his fist against the bed and repeated his request, T’Challa leaned away from the bed, holding his hands up in surrender. 

“It is in your best interest to stay calm, Mr. Barnes. You need to give your body a chance to recover.”

“I don’t need to recover, I need to speak with Tony! He’s looking for me, okay? God, he must be worried sick about me, what with me just disappearing in the middle of the fuckin’ night.”

The fact that T’Challa still hadn’t picked up a phone and called was borderline _insane_ , but the man seemed to be regarding _Bucky_ as the insane one and the alarm bells just wouldn’t shut up.

“Perhaps a compromise?” T’Challa offered after another scrutinizing look. “I will call Mr. Stark and you are welcome to listen in, but I ask that you remain silent. While I’m sure Mr. Stark is perfectly capable of tracking all of you to Wakanda, I would rather not simply _hand_ him the evidence that I’ve been harboring international criminals for the past year and a half. ”

At this point, Bucky decided that the entirety of Wakanda had in fact gone completely crazy— _or maybe it was some chemical or mind-altering virus, or hell, magic even_ — but ultimately it didn’t matter, none of it mattered because as soon as T’Challa had Tony on the phone, everything would be fine and Bucky’s world would be put to rights again.

Tony had to be looking for him and Bucky wouldn’t have been surprised if Tony were already on his way here.

“Fine, I’ll keep quiet,” he said, playing along with the King’s strange behavior, making a note to inform Tony and the rest of the Avengers that the residents of Wakanda seemed to have developed a bizarre case of memory loss.

“Anything in particular you would like me to ask Mr. Stark? Other than, of course, whether he’s missing a former Hydra assassin?” T’Challa was obviously just _indulging_ him and it made Bucky’s next words harsher than he wanted them to be, compounded by the still present roughness of his parched throat. 

“Just get Tony on the damn phone!” His fist clenched as he tried to temper his frustration. 

T’Challa inclined his head in acquiescence and pulled out a phone. A few taps later and a projection appeared above it. Bucky assumed it was to stream the video call (he’d seen Tony use similar features often enough) and it was angled so only T’Challa was captured in the frame. 

Another tap, one long agonizing second, and then Tony’s face appeared on the screen. Even at the less than ideal angle, seeing Tony made Bucky’s heart sing and he was about to move into frame, call out to his boyfriend— _Tony, I’m here, I’m alright_ — but another second passed, just long enough for Bucky’s brain to register _everything else_ about Tony and it stopped him short.

Tony didn’t seem… _distressed_ or bothered, the way Bucky would have expected him to be. On the contrary, the man appeared relaxed, gracing the King with an amicable wave and smile from his spot in the lab at the Compound, with the disembodied Iron Man leg next to him completing the image.

“Good evening, your royal kittiness,” Tony greeted cheerfully before scratching his chin, “it is evening in Wakanda, isn’t it? I can never keep my time zones straight.” When T’Challa nodded, meeting Tony with a smile of his own, Tony tilted his head to the side, the way he always did when presented with something curious. “We didn’t have a planned call, did we? Is there something I can help you with? Not that I mind the call, but you’re not usually one for empty chit chat and you _did_ catch me right in the middle of an excellent engineering binge.”

That statement was emphasized with Tony gesturing at the piece of his armor. T’Challa replied, something about the upcoming Accords meeting, but Bucky could barely hear the King over the panic swelling in his chest.

There was no notes of urgency in Tony’s voice, not a single one. No stress, no worry. Was Tony— was he not even looking for him?

Nothing made sense, but Bucky pulled on bits of his old training to regain his focus and a modicum of stability in his jumbled mind. He needed to hear this conversation. 

“Very well, I will take a look at the latest round of edits,” T’Challa concluded whatever they ended up discussing, before pausing long enough to glance at Bucky. His eyes were back on Tony when he said, “I apologize if this sounds rather… _peculiar_ , Mr. Stark, but I did have an ulterior motive for this call. I had a— I believe the colloquial term is ‘a gut feeling’? I had a _gut feeling_ that you may be in some sort of trouble or that perhaps you or someone you know needs my help?”

Tony didn’t seem troubled at all, if his amused smile was any indication. “Heh, is this that infamous feline intuition of yours?”

Tony’s teasing tone made the King smile again, although a little more exasperated but no less warm. “My instincts have never steered me wrong, Mr. Stark, and I’m inclined to trust them above many things.”

“I’m sure they haven’t, but they’re a little off this time.” Tony’s projection gave an easy shrug. “I’m fine and dandy over here. Still a bit sore from that last fight— some wackadoo tried to blow up a building, go figure— but other than that, we’re all good.”

Bucky bit straight through his lip to stifle the pathetic noise of distress that wanted to escape. His need to call out bordered on excruciating. _Tony, honey, why are you doing this? Why aren’t you looking for me? Please, I’m here, I’m right here._

But he forced himself to be silent because something was wrong, so very goddamn _wrong_ , and he needed to figure things out, _understand_ what was happening before doing anything rash.

Even if it killed him to sit there in silence and watch the love of his life act as if Bucky didn’t exist. 

“I’m glad to hear that you’re well,” T’Challa replied, “forgive me then for interrupting your morning.”

“Eh, it’s all good. Kinda nice to have the King himself checking up on me.” It was hard to see from Bucky’s angle, but he was sure Tony winked. “So I’ll see you at the next Summit, right? What is that, next week?”

Not a shred of worry in Tony’s voice. Nothing, just _nothing_. Bucky swallowed back the bile and the bitter taste of blood in his mouth, while his stomach clenched with dread.

_Tony, please, sweetheart, you have to remember me, why don’t you remember me?_

“Next week indeed. I look forward to it. Have a good evening, Mr. Stark.”

“Same to you, your Majesty.” 

The call ended on those simple goodbyes and T’Challa turned back to face the bed.

Bucky would’ve been real tired of seeing _pity_ in everyone’s eyes if he had any energy left in him to care. As it were, all the energy he _did_ have was channeled into renewed tension, a unique sort of anxiety stemming from the fact that the whole world was not making _any fucking sense_.

For a moment, he wanted to scream again, to lash out. God, this wasn’t even the first time his whole world flipped and turned itself inside out until he didn’t know left from right, but the angry expletives just died in his throat. 

_I thought I had left all those nightmares behind._

The silence in the room stretched for a few more moments, but when Bucky managed— _forced himself_ — to look at the King again, T’Challa’s expression softened. 

It might’ve been because there _tears_ welling up at the corners of Bucky’s eyes and it didn’t take long for one to escape and make its way down his cheek. He couldn’t even wipe it away.

“I don’t understand,” he stammered hoarsely, “why didn’t he— he’s not— he’s not looking for me?”

T’Challa shook his head. “As far as I know, he never looked for you. I don’t think he was particularly interested in seeking any sort of vengeance after your fight in Siberia and he must certainly have no interest in it now. It’s been over a year, plenty of time for rationality to take hold.”

Bucky shook his head and finally let out a desperate keen, unable to hold it back any longer. Why did everyone keep talking like the last six months never happened? 

“No, no, that’s not what I meant! I _live_ at the Compound! I was pardoned! You woke me up, you— you woke me up in _May_! I’ve lived with Tony since then! He— he helped me with the triggers, with my arm…” his voice faltered when nothing in T’Challa’s expression changed. “He— he _fixed_ me…”

“Mr. Barnes, I’m sorry, but whatever memories you have were simply dreams.” While the King’s expressions remained neutral, his voice took on a harder tone that indicated he was done indulging Bucky. “You were never pardoned. You haven’t left Wakanda and no one had been successful in removing the Hydra programming. You went into cryostasis a month and a half after I retrieved you and Mr. Rogers from Siberia.” Every word felt like punch to the gut. “You’ve been in cryostasis this whole time. The only reason we were forced to wake you now was because last night, your vitals spiked and reached dangerous levels. You were in distress and we had no other choice.”

Bucky’s fingers clenched into a fist again, tighter and tighter until his nails dug deep enough to draw blood.

It _hurt_ and the pain felt real, as real as anything else around him. As real as the King standing before him, as real as the cold metal around his wrist, as real as the sterile air filling his lungs and the never-ending, shrill beeps of the heart monitor that were now picking up pace.

Before everything, before the Compound, he would use touch to ground himself whenever his hold on reality wavered. He would let his hand wander, so he could feel the temperature and texture of the things around him, to remind him that this was reality—

“No, please. Please tell me you’re lying.” 

His fist unfurled and trembling fingers traced unsteady lines over the soft linens. They were cool from the chilled air of the room, but soft, likely high-quality. It was all _real_ , but it just couldn’t be—

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes, I know this must be terribly disorienting, but whatever you think happened, whatever images and memories that still linger in your head, they were nothing but stray neurons firing back and forth as you slept. They were nothing but _dreams._ ”


	3. Chapter 3

_The challenging aspect of having a second personality manifest itself in your head as a result of unspeakable trauma was the fact that even when all of Bucky was at peace, the Soldier still needed an outlet every once in a while. He needed release, a chance to take control and exert his will on the world._

_Part of that always came back to the desire to wipe Hydra from the face of the Earth, slowly and painfully, until every last piece of scum intimately knew the hell that he had suffered, but because Bucky had more important things in his life now than running off to play vengeful assassin, the Soldier had to be kept content with holographic simulations of Hydra agents and a good number of reinforced punching bags that Tony (almost) struggled to keep making for him._

_Sometimes though, it wasn’t the anger that the Soldier wanted. No, sometimes it was heat and lust and possessiveness, all calling out for one single man._

_Which was why Bucky had Tony crowded against a wall now in a rarely frequented hallway, worrying a mark, a_ brand _, into the vulnerable skin of his neck. One hand had both of Tony’s wrists pinned above his head while the vibranium warmed itself against the heat of Tony’s exposed back as Bucky pressed the man closer to him._

_The difference in strength, the fact that he could hold Tony down so easily, it was all like a damn drug for the Soldier, but it wasn’t really the power than made him light-headed. No, it was the fact that Tony wasn’t afraid of that difference. He never shied away from the Soldier, never made Bucky feel lesser for being just a little bit broken. The fact that Bucky needed the Soldier to function was a factor in his acceptance of what had become of his mind, but it was Tony’s own behavior that made that acceptance so much easier._

_Tony let out a laugh that betrayed his breathlessness as he made a token effort to escape Bucky’s grasp (probably just so he could get his own hands into the action). Bucky took pity on him, releasing one of the trapped wrists, and Tony wasted no time in using the freed hand to guide Bucky’s head back up so he could claim his lips in a kiss._

_This man, this incredible,_ unbelievable _man, treated him as if every part of Bucky was worthwhile. Not perfect, no, but rather worthy of being loved despite the imperfections._

_Something tender tempered the Soldier’s lust for a moment and Bucky slowed the kiss down, letting both of his hands settle on either side of Tony’s face._

_“Thank you,” he whispered when he pulled away, “for putting up with me, even when I’m like this.”_

_“Are you kidding?” Tony was still breathless. “Please tell me you know how much I fucking love it when you get all pushy and possessive like this.” Another kiss, Tony’s tongue swiping at Bucky’s bottom lip. “Why are we talking about this again? Instead of, you know, having mind-blowing wall sex?”_

_Bucky had to chuckle at Tony’s unabashed enthusiasm, but he needed to make sure Tony knew how much all of this meant to him. “God, sweetheart, you’re so fuckin’ perfect. You look at this dark part of me and you see something— something_ good _. Some days I still worry that you’re going realize that I’m broken, that I shouldn’t be trusted.”_

_“What, you think someday I’m gonna realize you can hurt me?”_

_Bucky nodded mutely._

_“Here’s the thing though, I_ already _know that. You’re stronger, you’re faster, and you can snap my neck before Friday can even realize what happened. Even worse, you don’t even need to hurt me physically to destroy me. If you haven’t noticed, I’m kinda in love with you, James, like_ ridiculously _in love, and all you’d need to ruin me would be to do what everyone has done and just… walk away.”_

_Bucky’s gaze dropped, but Tony reached out to tilt his chin back up and made sure he had Bucky’s undivided attention._

_“I know all of that, but I trust you, James. I trust you not to let me fall.” He kissed Bucky gently, with the same conviction that was carried along in those words, those echoes of Bucky’s own promises from the night they both realized they were in love. “So how about you trust me too, hmm? Trust me that when things go wrong, when you stumble, I’ll always be there to catch you.”_

***

Bucky’s eyes fluttered open even as he tried to cling to Tony’s last words, but the remnants of the love from his memory, the warmth and the peace of mind, it all quickly dissipated to be replaced with a sickening sort of dread that hadn’t left Bucky since he first regained consciousness. It was made worse by the fact that these memories of Tony were beginning to blur, to fragment around the edges as the haze of sleep receded while the room around him— _the antiseptic, the chill in the air, the damn beeping_ — it all remained just as real as before.

_Could it be— could it really be that everything I had lived through—_

Bucky still refused to let his mind finish the thought, still clung to the denial like a lifeline, but it kept getting harder and harder. His conviction was failing as the evidence kept piling on.

He straightened up from his slumped position, realizing his exhausted mind must have drifted off, and touched the screen of the powered down tablet still sitting in his lap. The bright screen came to life and displayed the smiling face of one Tony Stark underneath a headline that read “Tony Stark wows the eager crowds with latest SI tech at the biggest clean energy conference of the year.”

Before T’Challa left, he took pity on Bucky— _always that damn pity_ — and uncuffed him once Bucky promised to stay put and let himself _recover_ (he knew the King didn’t really take Bucky at his word though because there was at least one guard he could hear posted on the other side of the door). The King also honored his two requests - to keep Steve and everyone else out of his room while he “recovered” and to give him a device with access to the internet.

With the tablet in hand, Bucky spent hours scouring the web, trying to compare the information he found to the details he remembered. 

The problem was, however, that he didn’t pay much attention to the outside world in the last half a year, not when he had to focus on therapy and the triggers and _Tony_ , so it was difficult to find the connections (or lack thereof) now. So instead, he focused on the subject he knew best— _Tony himself_ — and it didn’t take long for Bucky to find the evidence that damned any remaining hope straight to hell.

There was no public record of his pardon. The Avengers took on missions in the last six months that he never remembered hearing about. SI struck a deal with a different Beijing energy company a full seven months earlier than he remembered. The “guest appearance” Bucky had made three weeks ago on a popular talk show, the interview that served as his debut back into the public eye, and the resulting explosion of reactions all over the internet (Friday, who collated the information, told them it was mostly positive) - there were no traces of _anything_. Instead of a former assassin, the talk show host interviewed some rock star that night and the rest of the internet remained silent on the return of one James “Bucky” Barnes.

Bucky simply ceased to exist. Any and all mentions of him ended after the disastrous events of the “Civil War” (the moniker was about the only consistency he was able to spot so far) and whatever facts he was able to gather about the last six months, none matched up correctly to his memories. 

T’Challa had offered one explanation when he tried to explain the possibilities to a distraught and confused Bucky. The doctors who regularly checked on Bucky’s frozen form chatted as they worked, about world news, about family and friends, about Bucky himself, and Bucky’s mind, although suspended in cryo, was just active enough to latch onto those random bits of information and incorporate them haphazardly into the dream. 

Not to mention, the memories of _before_ , of electricity coursing through his body, of Hydra scum looking down on him with their cruel, merciless eyes, of blood on his hands and ashes on his tongue, all those memories that became faded and distant after BARF now carried the familiar sharpness of unhealed trauma. 

Hydra was still crawling around in his head, slithering into the nooks and crannies and waiting to take control when the right words were spoken.

One by one, the pieces kept falling into place, but Bucky still refused to believe it, tried to explain the inconsistencies away, but then he stumbled onto the article now opened on his tablet.

The conference mentioned in the article wasn’t a big deal in and of itself, but it was the date of the conference that had Bucky’s blood running cold when he saw it.

Bucky had this particular date committed to memory, had it stamped across his own damn heart because it was the day— _or rather very early morning_ — when he came back to the Compound after his breakdown, ready and willing to beg Tony to take him back. It was the night Tony welcomed him home without hesitation, the night Bucky finally found the courage to tell Tony how he felt. 

_“We both know a little something about falling, don’t we? But sweetheart, if you take that step with me, trust me, please trust me, that I’ll be there to catch you.”_

It was the night he found out Tony felt the same way.

In his head, it was the night they first kissed, followed by a day they spent together in bed, but according to the printed word in front of him and the dozens upon dozens of pictures and videos from every imaginable angle (not to mention interviews and blog postings and entries posted to Tony’s own social accounts), Tony wasn’t at the Compound that day, he wasn’t even in New York. He was across the country, preparing to give a speech to introduce a new product to thousands of his science-minded colleagues.

Bucky ran a trembling hand over the picture on the tablet, over and over until the image of Tony’s smiling face blurred. One single tear dropped on the glass screen, but Bucky barely noticed it.

_It can’t be, it can’t all be a dream. My life with Tony, it had to be real._

It was harder and harder to believe his own words. In the past hours spent alone in this room, his mind, falling back on old instincts, ran through every possible scenario and none lined up with the reality surrounding him.

_Hydra replacing people with body doubles._

_Collective amnesia._

_Falsified information._

_Brainwashing - everyone else’s or his own._

_Maximoff’s mind-fuck powers._

The logical part of his mind, whatever still remained of it, crossed every ridiculous scenario off the list. Some were nearly impossible and some too convoluted to be realistic. He had no real enemies that would simply leave him to suffer emotionally. No, if Hydra were after him, they wouldn’t break his heart, they would simply take back control of the Asset and have him kill Tony. They would gain a weapon and get rid of a threat. Much more effective.

Records and photos could be falsified, but the internet was vast and no one short of Friday, Tony, and likely some brilliant tech geniuses in Wakanda had the ability to manipulate every potential piece of information Bucky had access to. And to what end? It didn’t make sense.

The witch… Well, he could see her making her revenge personal, rather than practical, but Bucky didn’t think it was that either. Despite his mind being a tattered mess, he knew it better than most and more importantly, he knew what it felt like to be under the control of others, what it felt like to be a vessel, a puppet. 

Bucky was in control, but in some horrible sense, he wished he weren’t.

Because if it wasn’t Maximoff and it wasn’t Hydra and it wasn’t some grand, vast conspiracy to simply break his heart—

Another tear dropped silently, then another, and the pathetic sniffle that followed told Bucky that he was crying. Tony’s smile didn’t budge on the display, immortalized as it was by the internet.

“Tony, sweetheart,” Bucky heard himself whisper, the words laced with the pain now taking hold inside. Crushing, suffocating anguish. “It can’t be, it can’t…” 

He had gone through so much, fought tooth and nail to rebuild his life and heal from the hell of his previous one. He found a home, he gained a family, he fell in love.

_Whatever images and memories that still linger in your head, they were nothing but stray neurons firing back and forth as you slept. They were nothing but dreams._

T’Challa’s words echoed in his head and this time, Bucky couldn’t stifle his sob, even though he didn’t want to _cry_ , dammit. In a long string of lifetimes, punctuated by monsters and nightmares, he had only cried in front of Tony, because Tony understood, Tony loved—

But he was alone here, so what the hell did it matter?

His body shook and he muffled the next sob into his fist.

_He was alone._

“No, no, please, I can’t do this. Tony, you can’t be— you’re all I have, honey, you’re all I have,” the words tumbled out, denial and pleading and desperation all blending together, but there was no one here to hear him beg. He drew his knees closer, curling in on himself, so he could hide his face, some strange instinct to shield himself from the world as he fell apart. 

A place he could call home. The love and support of a new found family. Forgiveness and mercy, freely given to him even when he believed he didn’t deserve them. The unbridled, honest affection as Tony looked at him across the dinner table. The love in those warm eyes as they traded kisses and hushed words in their bed, tired from a long day and needing to be close.

Every moment of the life he fully embraced, it was all gone.

_It was all a dream._

He opened his eyes to blink away the tears so he could see Tony’s face again. 

Tony, who never forgave him. Tony, who only thought of Bucky as _his parents’ killer_ who fractured Tony’s family irreparably, both old and new. 

Tony, who was never his to begin with. All Bucky really had was false images of second chances, of love and hope, all of it now slowly fading into the darkness. 

Logic crushed the denial, no matter how Bucky clung to it. It pressed down on him, merciless, until the ache in his chest was unbearable.

Because how could he deny the truth any longer? His heart could deny it until the end of time, but his mind had to accept reality.

After all, it was just a matter of asking himself a simple question. What was more realistic - that his broken mind fired off random neurons while he sleep inside the cryo chamber or that Tony Stark himself took Bucky into his home, used his own tech to heal Bucky’s mind and body, and in the process fell in love with his parents’ killer?

The answer was staring him right in the face— Tony smiling at the crowd in front of him on the day when Bucky’s whole life was supposed to have changed, but _didn’t_ — 

He wrapped his arm around his knees, pressed the tablet into his chest, and let the tears fall, no longer caring if the whole damn world saw him cry. Let them see.

He never had a home and he never had Tony’s love.

Bucky Barnes wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter - you guys want some salt to go with all this angst? ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sprinkles salt everywhere*

_“You know, if I were a lesser man, I’d be insulted that you got crumbs into this state of the art machinery.”_

_“Crumbs?” Bucky craned his neck to see the part of the metal shoulder Tony was examining. “I did_ not _get crumbs in my arm. And why would they be up in the shoulder anyways?”_

_“M’just saying,” Tony made a show of squinting at the arm, “there are crumbs and seeds and all sorts of stuff in here. Maybe I’ll add a little fertilizer for you, we’ll have a garden growing out of your arm in no time.”_

_“Stop that.”_

_“You know what you really need? Some pretty flowers to liven things up,” Tony went on, completely ignoring what Bucky had said. “Hmm, how about some… forget-me-nots?”_

_“Oh my god.”_

_“What, too on the nose? Fine, morning glories it is then,_ and _I’ll have to start calling you the Summer Soldier.”_

_“I hate you,” Bucky grumbled, mostly because he couldn’t keep the dopey smile off his face._

_Tony just snickered. “I know you do.”_

_The arm was perfectly clean, of course, no seeds or flowers in sight, both because Bucky wasn’t a slob, thank you very much, and because Tony had designed the arm to be self-cleaning, at least for any common day-to-day contaminants._

_The teasing though - that was nothing new, as natural as breathing at this point and a simple sign that they were both comfortable around each other. The need to walk on eggshells never really existed, not between them, and Bucky only wished he had the right words to express how freeing it was, not needing to live up to certain expectations or to some venerated image of “Bucky Barnes” that hadn’t existed in decades. He wished he knew how to say that Tony made it easier for Bucky to just be…_ himself _, whoever that was now._

_***_

Bucky let the memory fade back into the recesses of his mind while a long, drawn out sigh escaped his lips. 

The sun should’ve felt comforting as its rays skirted along his skin, but it barely registered, even now. The fresh air carried by the mild breeze, the vegetation surrounding him, the chirps of unfamiliar birds - if someone had asked, Bucky would’ve been hard pressed to describe any of it, even though he had spent most of the afternoon here, sitting on the bench in one of the more obscure corners of the villa’s grounds. 

An entire week of living this reality, breathing this air, but while his mind had examined the evidence and accepted the truth, his heart still clung to the fading images of Tony.

The Soldier stirred, agitated by their combined thoughts, but even he didn’t have the energy to protest. Bucky felt the Soldier’s grief as keenly as he did his own, especially now that there were no more defensive walls between them. He remembered what it was like to be separated— _perhaps it was his own mind telling him to stop pushing this darker part of himself away?_ — but even though it wasn’t real, that was one mistake Bucky had no intention of repeating.

The Soldier and he were one, so as Bucky drowned himself in denial, the Soldier clung to it just as tightly. They railed against the truth together, refused to face it until it was all but impossible to deny. The Soldier wept as Bucky wept, sharing in the very same heartache while the empty void in their chest expanded on and on.

Every part of Bucky loved Tony, but reality soldiered on. Bucky’s heart clung to a dream, but his mind accepted the world around them. With acceptance, came pain, but to survive, to _live on_ , Bucky had to turn that pain into something else.

Some days, he was simply numb, but then, at other times… _Anger_ was a familiar friend, steeped deep into the Soldier’s— _his own_ — veins, so Bucky let it seep deeper, right down to his broken heart. After all, if you took the love, the protective affection, the heat and passion that embodied the Soldier, all that was left was his righteous and unyielding _wrath_. 

On those days, Bucky could see himself ripping apart a building full of Hydra scum and barely break a sweat. Unfortunately, there were no Hydra bases conveniently located around the corner, so he had to let the anger fester within him. Having some modicum of sense left, Bucky kept to himself during these times to avoid letting his rage spill over onto someone else.

Bucky hadn’t quite decided whether today would see numbness or anger and he absently toed at the dry earth with his shoe as he contemplated whether to go back to the villa.

_“Keeping yourself isolated and letting yourself dwell on the memories is the worst thing you can do. Focus on productive activities of self-care that ground you back to this reality. Take a shower. Eat. Read a book or watch a funny movie. Go outside. And most importantly, try to engage in social interaction with the others around you. Even if you have to take small steps, the most important thing is to shift your focus back to the here and now.”_

Dr. Vance’s advice— or rather his _own_ advice to himself, he supposed— echoed in his head and he knew the best thing to do would be to follow it, to stop isolating himself, to let other people help him recover.

Despite his complicated mix of emotions, Bucky felt genuine guilt about his initial reaction to Steve (his heart may have been broken, but he still had one). This Steve had no advance warning and no explanation for the hostility that Bucky harbored toward him when he woke up. 

Now, knowing that the last six months were fabricated by Bucky’s own mind, he couldn’t say for certain what was true. How much of what he knew was based on things his subconscious mind had picked up over time and then revealed to him through the dream? How much of it was nonsense and lies created by a sick, broken mind? 

Some things, however, still remained true. The former Avengers still spoke of Tony like he was evil reincarnate. Wanda still prompted a burning desire to _kill_ out of Bucky every time he was in the same room as her. Steve still refused to listen to half the things Bucky said and ignored Bucky’s need for space. 

_And speak of the devil…_

Bucky scowled at an innocent shrub on the other side of the path when the echoes of familiar footsteps sounded in the distance.

The Soldier alerted him to the noise early enough that Bucky could’ve made his escape, but his whole chest _ached_ , his gut clenched with that awful sense of _loss_ that he wasn’t sure would ever go away, and the only thing that dampened that pain was letting himself feel the wrath in his blood. 

_To hell with it all. I’ve got nothing to lose, so let’s find out just how much my mind actually knew._

Steve approached at a sedate pace and Bucky watched as the man’s face lit up with a pleased smile when Bucky came into his line of sight. 

“There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you,” Steve said as he hurried over. Without an invitation, he took the seat next to Bucky, still smiling. “Sam and Scott are cooking up something pretty amazing for dinner, the whole kitchen smells like heaven. I was, uh— I was hoping you would join us this time.”

“Thank you, but I think I’ll pass,” Bucky bit out, although he tried to soften his tone, reminding himself that Steve was only trying to help. Steve didn’t know that food tasted like ash nowadays and the sight of a kitchen reminded Bucky of _home_ and _love_ that he could never have again. 

It didn’t matter much anyways. He could go for days without food, so Bucky only bothered to eat for survival, rather than for any sort of pleasure.

“Come on, Buck, you can’t keep running away like this. Brooding all day long, hiding over here in the bushes all by yourself, it isn’t good for you,” Steve’s tone bordered on admonishing and the Soldier matched Bucky’s own mental eye roll. Steve wasn’t _wrong_ , but dammit, Bucky wasn’t a goddamn child.

He didn’t say anything though, which Steve took as his cue to continue. “I understand you had a hard time with the cryostasis, but T’Challa’s doctors gave you the all-clear, so you just—” Steve bit his lip and hesitated only a second before placing his hand on Bucky’s knee and giving it a squeeze, “you just need to spend time with your friends, your _family_. That’s how you get better. We’ll get you back to your old self in no time.”

Bucky let his eyes drift down to the heavy, warm hand on his knee. _Coulda fuckin’ sworn I told Steve to stop doing that._ One second, two seconds, the third beat of silence running into awkward, but Steve didn’t remove the hand. If Bucky had the energy, he probably would’ve ripped the offending appendage right off his knee, _broken_ Steve’s wrist for good measure just to teach him a lesson, but as it were, it wasn’t even worth the effort.

“Can you please get your hand off me?” His words were quiet and hoarse— _he hadn’t spoken to anyone in days_ — but the steel in his voice should’ve been hard to miss. When the hand _still_ didn’t move, his eyes trailed back up. Steve was frowning a confused little frown, brows creased. The hand squeezed Bucky’s knee again, probably meant to reassure, to comfort, to show Bucky he wasn’t alone. It did none of those things.

Instead, his heart longed for Tony’s easy smile, those intelligent eyes, and his touch, only given with Bucky’s enthusiastic approval.

“Bucky, come on, it’s just me, honey. You’re not yourself right now, you just need to get your head on straight, that’s all. You were in cryo for over a year, of course you’re feeling a little skittish.” Another squeeze. “I’m always here for you, that’s all I’m trying to say here. You know that, right?”

“Is that so?”

Steve’s lips twitched up. “Yeah, of course. You can always trust me.” 

Bucky waited one more long, agonizing second before letting the Soldier bleed through just enough to allow both of them to let off some steam. 

His hand wrapped around Steve’s wrist, squeezed until Steve visibly winced and let go, mouth open on a pained _ah_. The next moment had Bucky standing back up— _he ignored the wave of nausea and how his whole body still felt so damn_ wrong— to put several feet of distance between them. 

“When someone tells you to stop touching them, it’s usually a good idea to stop.”

“I don’t understand, Bucky, why are you—”

“It’s real simple, Steve,” Bucky spun on his heel to face the man. “Stop actin’ like a damn idiot.” 

Steve still looked like the perfect picture of innocent confusion, like he was unable to comprehend why his best friend was acting like this. Well, in that case, Steve was in for a rude awakening.

It was time to test Bucky’s theories and find out just how much of the last six months were fevered delusions and how much of it was the truth Bucky’s mind had long ago figured out, but had been unwilling to accept in the bright light of day.

“Tell me,” he clenched his fist at his side, irrationally frustrated for a moment that he couldn’t cross his arms, “do the others know what happened in Siberia?”

The stunned look on Steve’s face was almost enough to make Bucky laugh, but he was too numb to feel any sort of satisfaction at catching him off-guard.

“What do you mean?”

“Simple question, Steve. Did you tell the others about Zemo, about the video, about the fact that I killed Tony’s— _Tony Stark’s_ parents? The fact that we fought Stark and then left him to die in the middle of a Hydra base.” 

Surprise turned into a pained grimace. Steve looked away, but Bucky wasn’t sure if that was guilt or frustration he saw in the pale blue eyes. “What happened back then, that’s none of anyone’s business.”

“No? So what, they all think To— _Stark_ just went nuts, started shooting at us for no good reason?”

_“They all know Tony pretty well, Buck, they know what he’s capable of. Nothing I say or don’t say would change their opinion of him.”_

Bucky held his breath to see if this Steve would follow in the footsteps of the Steve from his dreams. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Tony _did_ start shooting at us. He blasted your arm off, tried to _kill_ you. The others know how he is. The mistakes he’s made, the things he can do— the things he’s _willing_ to do. They don’t need to know every detail to get the picture.” 

Bucky shook his head. “Right, right, because the man finding out I killed his parents, that’s just a _detail_. Who’d wanna know that?” Bucky felt his lip curl on a snarl. “The truth is such a pain in the ass, isn’t it, Stevie? God forbid, we wouldn’t want them _sympathizing_ with Stark, right? We wouldn’t want them feeling sorry for a man who was so overcome with grief and _betrayal_ that his mind snapped—”

“Why are we even having this discussion? That was almost two years ago, what’s done is done. And everything I did, I— I did it to protect _you_!” Clearly Steve was beginning to lose some of his own temper too. “Why are you so hell bent on defending Tony all of the sudden?”

“We beat down a man, whose parents I _killed_ , destroyed his suit and cracked open his chest, and then we left him to die alone. The least we can do is acknowledge that we were in the wrong here.”

“Tony lived, we both know that.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. We had no guarantee back then. We had no way of knowing he could get himself home.” 

Steve ran a hand through his hair, still not meeting Bucky’s eyes. “I was focused on getting you out,” he mumbled, ignoring every word Bucky just said.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t a big surprise. After all, that whole mess— _the Civil War_ — took place because Steve decided to burn the world down just to save him.

Now more than ever, Bucky was convinced he should’ve just died on the Triskelion.

But for better or worse, he was alive and he would keep on living, if only so he could hang on to his false memories of a world where he was loved and wanted and trusted.

The prickle of tears at the corners of his eyes blurred his vision, but he quickly blinked away the moisture. Steve remained ignorant to the momentary break in Bucky’s cold facade, just sitting there, looking down at his feet and heaving a frustrated sigh, as if this whole conversation was a _chore_.

“I wish things would’ve gone differently with Tony, I really do,” Steve finally said, his voice almost wistful, but Bucky still struggled to hear any sort of regret. “Tony was a friend, a _good_ friend, but things started falling apart long before the fight in Germany. Tony, he’s— Well, you don’t really know him, Buck, but more often than not, he had a hard time telling the difference between saving the world and destroying it. And then he tried to _kill_ you—”

_“He’s not apologizing for hurting you, he’s sorry because you didn’t agree with him. This is all just excuses, he never once admits that he’s wrong.”_

“—Tony made a lot of mistakes along the way, starting with Ultron, and yes, I made mistakes too, I kept the truth from him, but he shouldn’t have taken that out on you.”

Steve’s eyes finally found his, pleading with him to understand, but Bucky was too hollow inside to feel anything other than a resentful sort of anger.

“Tell me about Ultron,” he said instead, completely bypassing Steve’s litany of excuses. This time, Steve’s pause and the return of that confused frown did stir a modicum of vindictive satisfaction. “Or better yet, Stevie, tell me about Maximoff.” 

He remembered his explosive reaction to the revelation that Maximoff was Hydra, drowning in the sense of betrayal and fury and _hurt_ , but Tony, _his Tony_ , he turned betrayal into trust, desperation into logic, and pain into love—

Bucky pushed back against the memories.

“I’m not sure what you wanna know,” Steve was still frowning, “we gave you the details about Ultron a while back. Tony built a killer robot, we had to fight it off. And Wanda… She and her brother fought against us at the start, but in the end, they did the right thing.”

_Tony, alone and scared, curled up against the wall on the floor of the empty hallway. “Everywhere around me, I see everyone I care about, everyone I love— all of you are dead. And all I can do is just stand there, completely helpless and alone.” Bucky’s arm, wrapped around him, as he and the Soldier promised to keep Tony safe from anyone who dared hurt him again._

God, the memories refused to leave him alone. Tony’s image _haunted_ him and everything reminded him of the things he had lost, but Bucky pushed it all away again. He would have time to grieve later, when he and the Soldier were alone with no one else around to see them fall apart.

He pushed and pushed until there was room enough for the _wrath_ to take over. 

“What was she before Ultron?” 

The momentary hesitation, _blink and you miss it_ widening of Steve’s eyes, it was more than enough to confirm Bucky’s suspicions.

Because he always knew, didn’t he? The Soldier always knew. Whether it was simple logic, instinct, or that stench Hydra scum always left behind, it didn’t matter. Bucky must have always known.

“Say it, Steve.”

“She was— she was, uh— the Maximoffs were _experimented_ on by Hydra, but Bucky, no, it wasn’t like that!” Steve must have seen the sharp lines of disgust overtaking Bucky’s features. “She wasn’t like Red Skull or Crossbones or—”

“Stop, just— just stop this, Steve. She _volunteered_ for Hydra, didn’t she?”

Steve didn’t deny Bucky’s choice of words.

“They both did the right thing in the end,” the man murmured instead, so goddamn blinded by his unfounded trust in the witch.

“The Maximoffs did ‘the right thing’ only when Ultron threatened to destroy the whole damn world. Courageous lot, aren’t they? Goddamn heroes, I say. It’s just too bad they forgot about those pesky morals when it was _Tony_ they were trying to destroy.”

“How do you—” Steve licked his lips, “How do you know all of this?”

“I read between the lines. Doesn’t take a fuckin’ genius to put two and two together. But I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Everyone deserves a second chance.”

“Did she earn hers? Did she even apologize?”

“She lost her _brother_ , isn’t that enough? And she shouldn’t have to _grovel_ to start over—”

“No, but she _should_ feel some fuckin’ remorse!”

“Bucky, please, she’s just like you, neither one of you had any choice—”

“Oh, don’t you fuckin’ dare,” Bucky’s eyes must have flashed with an unmistakable threat because Steve pulled the hand reaching out for Bucky back to his chest. “I have nothing in common with that witch. I was _brainwashed_. I had no choice. She _did_.”

When Steve didn’t argue, Bucky spared just one selfish moment to grieve over the fact that he was about to lose his best friend— _again_ — and there would be no one there to pick up Bucky’s broken pieces after everything was said and done.

“You put her on a team with the same people she hurt. You didn’t give a fuck about the effect she was having on them. I know you’ll have plenty of excuses, but I don’t think there’s anything you can say that would make sense to me. Tony, Banner— they were your team! They were your _family_ and you should’ve protected them, you should’ve put them first, instead of some stranger who wanted you dead days before!”

“Bucky—”

“No, you let me talk! I have a right to be angry! It was you— _you_ never told me about her, you deliberately kept the truth from me, obviously knowing it’d upset me, but you still— you still offered to let a fuckin’ _Hydra agent_ root around in my head!” 

His chest heaved, the anger finally reaching its peak in that shouted accusation. His nails dug into his palm again, into cuts that barely healed from the last time he did this, but the pain kept him lucid, kept reminding him what was real. 

Now, _finally_ , Steve looked guilty. 

_Too little, too late._

“Bucky, she’s not a _threat_. The doctors here, they had nothing that could help you, so I wanted to try every avenue, anything that might work. Honey, come on, you have to believe me.” Steve’s blue eyes pleaded with him. “I would never let anyone hurt you.” 

The thing was, Steve probably meant that, honestly and truly, but it wasn’t ever about safety or protection for Bucky. No, it was about simple trust.

“If you knew me at all, you’d know that I would never want anything to do with her and that the mere thought of her inside my head— it turns my stomach, Steve. After everything I’ve been through, after _everything_ —” 

He choked on the words, suddenly depleted of the energy needed to finish his tirade. What did it even matter? 

Anger turned to a hollow emptiness. All he wanted was _Tony_ , but that was— well, _that_ was nothing but a dream.

Steve stood up, arms outstretched and reaching for Bucky, who stumbled back, feeling sick at yet another intrusion of his space.

“Just stay away from me.”

“Please, can’t we just talk—”

“I’ve done enough talking. Now I’m asking you to just let me be.” 

“Bucky, no, I love you too much to see you suffer like this. You’re obviously upset—”

“Yeah, must be all the lies and the bullshit.”

“Please, _please_ don’t do this. We’ve been through too much— you said once _till the end of the line_ , you remember that? How can you give that up now?”

Some other version of him, the Bucky before the cryo who was still so damn _grateful_ to Steve, might have caved at the use of that line, but he supposed his own mind managed to give him the strength he needed to shake off the empty sentimentalities. 

Because even if the last six months never happened, it didn’t change the fact that he would never again be the Bucky Barnes that Steve longed for so desperately. 

“Whatever you did for me, Steve, whatever you sacrificed? I never asked for it. I was fine without you. It was _you_ who came barging into my life, with police and politicians and liars on your tail. I was fine.”

_I will never be fine again._

“So what, do you _hate_ me now?” Self pity wasn’t a good look on Steve. “Where is this all coming from, none of this was ever an issue before—”

“I guess I just got a good night’s sleep. So much easier to think clearly when you’re well rested.”

The sarcasm was acerbic and the cold in Bucky’s eyes didn’t thaw, even in the face of Steve’s obvious distress. Bucky wondered whether he would’ve felt _sympathy_ for the man if he weren’t quite so broken inside, but unfortunately for Steve, all that was left of Bucky was a strange sort of detachment. 

“I don’t hate you,” he did say, but it wasn’t so he could see the flair of hope come to life in Steve’s eyes, “I just don’t know you. We’re strangers, plain an’ simple. And it’s hard to trust a stranger who lied to his teammate for years, who’s lying to his team now, who lied to _me_ — Start with some honesty, Steve. Then we’ll see where it’ll take us from there.” 

Bucky turned and didn’t look back as he took long strides down the path that lead back to the villa. Some part of him was infinitely glad that Steve didn’t follow, but the Soldier just lamented the fact that Steve didn’t give them a good enough reason to punch the idiot out.


	5. Chapter 5

_“How was today’s session?”_

_“Still feels like hell,” Bucky sighed, but gave the Colonel a smile when a cup of coffee and a syrup-laden pastry appeared in front of him. What was it with everyone at the Compound having the inexplicable urge to feed him all the time? “It’s getting better, especially with Dr. Vance’s schedule, but it’s still hell.”_

_“I bet, but at least you seem to be in a better mood. The last time we ran into each other like this, you were twirling a knife and telling_ me _to go to hell.”_

_“I said I was sorry.”_

_Rhodes chuckled as he settled in on the opposite side of the table. “You woulda been if that kept up. But seriously, Barnes, it’s good to see you more bright eyed and bushy tailed nowadays. You’re still a little mopey, but hell, I’ve dealt with Tony for thirty years, I can deal with mopey.”_

_Bucky answered that with a grateful smile and then took a generous bite out of the pastry, savoring the sweet taste. Rhodes took a sip of his own coffee._

_“How is Tony, by the way? Is he treating you alright? With the therapy, I mean.”_

_Rhodes’ question caught him off guard and with a still full mouth, Bucky just quirked a confused eyebrow._

_“This is a complicated situation for everyone involved,” Rhodes elaborated further and Bucky snorted at the understatement. Rhodes rolled his eyes. “And yeah, my original threat still stands - if you hurt Tony in any way, I’ll make you wish you were dead, etcetera, etcetera, but I also know Tony’s no angel either. He’s got a temper and that man’s bedside manner is_ terrible _. Other than the good doctor, you don’t have anyone here advocating for you, so, I dunno…” he shrugged, “I just want to make sure that you’re getting the help you need and that both you_ and _Tony are treating each other right.”_

_Bucky had a hard time swallowing the rest of his bite, mostly because a large lump of unnamed emotions was jammed in his throat. Thankfully, he managed to avoid a coughing fit._

_“I appreciate that, Colonel,” he said once he found his voice, “more than you know. But I don’t think you have to worry. Tony, he’s— he’s great.”_ Amazing _, Bucky wanted to say, but he kept that thought to himself. “He’s doing his best—_ more _than his best in this really…_ complicated _situation, and that’s more than I could ever ask of him.”_

_Rhodes inclined his head, accepting Bucky’s answer, and was about to say something else, but then Tony strode into the kitchen and their focus shifted to him._

_The man broke out into a bright grin when he saw them at the table. “Well, look at this, my two favorite Jameses sharing a cup of coffee together, that’s precious.” He shoved Rhodes playfully as he walked by. “Didn’t invite me though and that’s_ rude _.”_

_Rhodes shoved him right back and the sound of their good-natured bickering filled the kitchen. Bucky committed the scene to memory and thanked whatever fate that led him here for the warmth that blossomed in his chest._

***

Bucky’s memories still faded around the edges in the bright light of day, voices and faces blurring as if they were obscured by a thick fog. He’d use that to convince himself of the truth, of what was real, but then every night, every time he’d close his damn eyes, it would all come back with stark clarity. Every night Bucky was haunted by these memories— _dreams_ — and every time, he woke up feeling disoriented and wrong-footed and so damn alone.

There would always be a few brief moments where he would wish for the memories to fade entirely, if only to keep them from taunting him each night, but the desire to forget never lingered. Forgetting meant losing Tony.

The fact that he was afraid of losing a man that never existed just served as more proof that Bucky’s mind was a tattered mess that shouldn’t be trusted. 

But he tried to keep living. Having given up on any sort of reconciliation between himself and Steve, Bucky decided the rest of the former Avengers were fair game too, especially if they insisted on acting like fools, so Bucky’s days at the villa became less solitary as he spent them antagonizing certain former allies. At the very least, it wasn’t boring. 

***

“Well, look who it is, it’s the Hydra Princess,” Bucky proclaimed as soon as Maximoff rounded the corner. Her eyes flared with that sickening red when she spotted him, but Bucky didn’t so much as flinch. 

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

He leaned back in his chair and crossed one ankle over the knee, playing up the faux-casual display as he flashed her a shark smile. “Hey, darlin’, call ‘em like I see ‘em. Just the kinda man I am.”

She walked past him with a huff, opening one of the cupboard doors with an unnecessary amount of force, making the hinges creak pitifully under the treatment. 

He observed her from his spot at the dining table while she prepared herself a bowl of cereal. The Soldier predictably growled, wisps of near silent whispers urging Bucky to just _end_ the woman who caused Tony so much pain. After all, Ultron wasn’t just a figment of Bucky’s imagination, it _did_ happen and the witch’s actions left permanent scars on the real Tony, as well as many others. 

There were moments where Bucky wanted nothing more than to follow the siren call of that bloodlust, to know what it would be like to inflict the hell Hydra put him through onto someone who had been an agent of Hydra’s will and still felt no remorse for it.

Giving into that desire would’ve been easy, far too easy, but Bucky tried to fight back against it, much to the Soldier’s displeasure. It wasn’t for Maximoff’s sake though nor was it for Steve. No, he hesitated to throw caution to the wind because he had promised _Tony_ to be smart about this, to avoid acting out of sheer need for vengeance. Even now, even knowing none of it was true, Bucky couldn’t bring himself to go back on his word.

Besides, he had no way of knowing if Wanda had ever attacked Tony while she resided here and other than her horrendous attitude, she made no other hostile moves, at least to his knowledge. Attacking her now would be seen as unwarranted aggression by everyone else and while satisfying, the end result would unfortunately find Bucky either in a prison cell or on the run. 

A more discreet kill would require more resources and more conviction than he currently possessed. 

So, Bucky decided to just sit back and antagonize the witch every chance he got. Best case, she’d attack him and he’d have the excuse of self-defense, worst case, he’d get a few days’ worth of entertainment out of it.

Unfortunately, much to his and the Soldier’s dismay, the witch was surprisingly hard to provoke, so either she had matured in the last year or she actually sensed that Bucky was a legitimate threat. Bucky had his money on the latter. 

“Must be so very lonely here, without all of your nazi comrades keeping you company.”

Her spoon clattered loudly against her bowl as she dropped it so she could spin around and snarl at him.

“I’m not Hydra anymore! How many times do I have to say that?”

Bucky shrugged. “A snake that sheds its skin is still a snake.”

She expression shifted, indignation replaced by a mocking smile. “Doesn’t that make _you_ Hydra as well then? How many people did _you_ kill in their service?” 

Bucky’s own smile widened. “Plenty. I killed _plenty,_ princess, and I remember each and every one of them. Do _you_? Do you remember the people you killed? How many did you torture, hmm? How many minds did you have to rip apart to get the hang of those pretty powers of yours?” He watched her fingers twitch.

“You don’t know anything about me. I did what I had to do to avenge my family.”

“You allied yourself with nazis. Your ancestors must be rolling in their graves!”

“How dare you!” she hissed and _now_ that magic danced along her fingers as her eyes flared and her chest heaved. “Hydra was a means to an end, just a way to destroy that arrogant, war-mongering—”

“Hey! What is going on in here?”

Steve’s booming voice echoed through the kitchen as he sprinted through the entryway (followed by a concerned Wilson and scowling Barton) and their appearance was likely the witch’s saving grace because if Tony’s name had come out of her mouth, Bucky was fairly certain both he and the Soldier would’ve snapped.

A part of him still wanted to scream. They were _this_ close to the witch letting her control slip, but now that the cavalry had arrived, she was less liable to give Bucky a reason to snap her neck.

Wanda spun on her heel to meet Steve’s eyes, the scarlet fury quickly bleeding away to replaced with a picture of innocence.

“Barnes is still saying all these awful things about me. I don’t understand why, especially after _everything_ we’ve been through when we were trying to save him.”

While Bucky marveled how any of them could be buying this “pitiful child” routine, Steve was eyeing him disapprovingly.

“Bucky, please, you have to stop this. You’re starting to act like a bully.”

“A bully, really? Well, I must’ve learned that from all of you then.” 

“She’s not our enemy anymore, okay?” Barton cut in next. He marched across the kitchen, stopped to pat Maximoff gently on the shoulder before he positioned himself in front of Bucky, arms crossed and glaring. “She did her penance, she made up for her mistakes, and she doesn’t need someone like you, who wasn’t even there, bringing that shit back up!”

Bucky took his time to get out of his chair, even going so far as to let himself have a good stretch before facing Barton. 

“Penance?” He cocked his head to the side. “Making up for mistakes? Is that so? Wow, I must’ve missed a ton while I was stuck in cryo!” 

“You know what, man, fuck you!” Barton punctuated the declaration with a finger pointed at Bucky’s face. “Wanda’s right, we went to the fucking Raft trying to safe your sorry ass and this is how you repay us—”

“Hey, hey, that’s enough, you two! We all just need to calm down, okay?” Wilson placated, ever the peacekeeper, but both Bucky and Barton ignored the plea.

“Everything you did, you did for Steve, not for me,” Bucky sneered, “so don’t go blaming me for your fuck ups. Instead, how about you own up to what you did, hmm? How about you admit that you’re a shit father who decided to abandon his wife and kids to play superhero-turned-criminal? How about—”

Bucky saw the punch coming from a mile away and even with one arm, he could’ve easily blocked it, but he still let Barton’s fist collide with his face. Pain flared, sharp and _real_ , and Bucky embraced it.

Still, he let the Soldier take over in the next moment and before Steve and Wilson could even get themselves across the kitchen, Bucky punched Barton right back, limiting the force of the impact just enough to avoid killing the idiot. Maximoff yelped in shock as Barton tumbled down flat on his ass and then Bucky was being pulled away, strong hands tugging at his shoulders. He didn’t bother resisting, letting Steve and Wilson pull him back until there was half of a kitchen between him and the archer. 

While the Soldier’s bloodlust was momentarily satiated by this act of violence, Bucky realized it was a fleeting sort of pleasure that just left him emptier than before. Go figure, vengeance was a poor substitute for the things he had lost after all.

“You fucker, I think you broke my nose!” Barton choked out, words slurred by the blood pouring down his face. 

“Touch me again and I’ll break your fuckin’ skull too,” Bucky spat right back and then wrenched his shoulder away from the hands still on him. “Let go of me, you two.”

Steve’s disapproving frown was out in full force. “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t punch anyone else.”

“In his defense,” Wilson chimed in, “Clint did punch him first.” 

“Bucky was provoking him,” Steve muttered before heaving a great, big sigh. “Buck, seriously, what’s gotten into you? I didn’t realize that telling you about— about Ultron would have you acting like this.”

Bucky shook his head incredulously. “Did you really expect me to welcome a fuckin’ Hydra operative with open arms?”

“The Bucky I knew believed in second chances.”

Always with the goddamn ‘my Bucky’ bullshit. “Pretty sure second chances don’t go to people who don’t think they did anything wrong to begin with.” 

“Alright, I think we all just need to take a deep breath and cool off before anyone else does something they’re gonna regret,” Wilson tried again, which Bucky just met that with a humorless huff and a muttered “Whatever.” 

The energy he was able to siphon out of the Soldier’s wrath was now gone while that unbearable ache in his chest returned with a vengeance. He was just so goddamn _tired_ and all he wanted was to be alone.

Wilson awkwardly rubbed the back of his head with one hand while pointing at Bucky’s face with the other. “You, uh— you want me to get you some ice for that? It’s bruising already.”

Steve looked like he wanted to say something too, but Bucky didn’t give him the chance. He didn’t need another sanctimonious lecture. He didn’t need to be admonished for not acting like the Bucky Steve knew so well.

“I’m fine,” he said, trying and mostly failing to take the bite out of his words when he addressed Wilson, “it’ll be gone in an hour.” Ignoring the frustration oozing out of Steve, the hateful looks thrown in his direction by the witch and the disgusted glare from Barton, Bucky spun on his heel and left, feeling no better than when the day began. 

*** 

Bucky pushed his luck with the witch a few more times after that, to questionable success, but at least one advantage to drawing out her temper and letting her show her true colors was the fact that some of the others were becoming more weary of her with each crimson strand of her magic. Only Steve and Barton remained steadfast in their trust of the witch and Bucky wondered whether they were truly that naive. The Soldier just wondered where they were really that _stupid_.

After the exchange with Barton, Natalia approached him, as _a friend who was just worried about him,_ she had said, but Bucky knew better. He watched as he tried her usual tactics, those innocent little gestures of comfort and care that countless men have fallen for before. A delicate hand on his shoulder, a genuine up tilt of her lips forming a friendly smile, the concern in her eyes. 

She’d murmur words of camaraderie, of a shared hell, but he’d look at her perfectly unbroken wrists and remember a different Natalia Romanova accusing Tony of brainwashing Bucky into loving him.

He didn’t really mind her attempts at subduing him. At least with her, he knew he couldn’t trust a single word, couldn’t believe a single flutter of those long, pretty eyelashes. But then she made the mistake of calling him James and while his heart tore in two, his lips snarled and he told her to go straight to hell.

Wilson (and poor Lang who just wanted to stay out of the drama entirely) kept away for the most part, leaving Bucky to his solitude, which made them the least loathsome of the group. In another life, in some other story written by a less bitter universe, he believed he could’ve been friends with Wilson, good friends even, but in this life, Wilson’s loyalty remained with Steve and Bucky didn’t have enough energy left in him to care.

It didn’t take long for Bucky to realize that his behavior was a terrible coping mechanism, one that would end in blood sooner or later. As much as he wanted the witch dead, some part of him— _that sounded like Tony_ — urged him to stop and focus on finding a way to heal instead because if he allowed this to continue, the anger would just keep growing until it consumed him. He realized he didn’t want that, so two weeks after he woke up from cryostasis, he reached out to T’Challa for help. The King in turn offered an invitation for Bucky live at the royal estate.

Bucky left without saying goodbye. 

One more week passed, then another, and the red hot grief subsided into a lingering ache. Echoes of Tony’s voice never left his mind, not entirely, but he and the Soldier had to keep living. 

He took to spending a good portion of his days in the royal library, surrounded by silence and centuries of knowledge. Books allowed him to get lost, if only for a short time, in realities and worlds not his own and he found this form of escapism to be a healthier coping mechanism than antagonizing a witch with other-worldly powers.

The royal estate was vast and the rest of his time was spent exploring the grounds. Solitude was still preferable on most of days, but he knew it wasn’t ideal, not if he ever wanted to heal. 

The first time he smiled since he woke up, really, truly _smiled_ , was when Princess Shuri convinced him to spar. She put him flat on his ass— _in his defense, he wasn’t trying very hard, but he supposed neither was she_ — and she found the whole thing very amusing. Her genuine laughter, her outstretched hand as she offered it to help him up, the vitality and joy dancing her eyes, it all helped fill a small part of the void that settled within him, reminding him that life was still filled with happiness, even if it weren’t his own. 

He didn’t realize right away that he was smiling, but he didn’t fight the small moment of levity her presence had given him.

Eventually, she became someone he considered a friend and the young genius even offered to build him an arm. Her eyes lit up every time she spoke about this and many of her other projects, in the same way he saw it happen with Tony and the boys whenever they found themselves in the presence of _science_.

Unlike their excitement though, hers was _real_ and Bucky accepted her help without resentment. His arm would never be built with Tony’s care imbued into every inch of it, but it was becoming easier to accept that as time marched on.

Another month passed and the space between the numerous cracks of his broken heart slowly began to fill. Bucky was hesitant to call it healing, but it felt like a start. 

***

_“Alright, stand back, boys, and let the master do his thing—”_

_“Hey, no way, Tony! If this thing explodes, I wanna see it!”_

_“I think I have to agree with Harley, Mr. Stark, we’ll need take notes on how the solution reacts to the stimulus. Plus, you know, explosions_ are _fun.”_

_Tony laughed, a genuine sort of laughter that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and his shoulders shake with suppressed mirth. Bucky snapped another picture from his relatively safer position behind one of the benches._

_“Okay, okay, you hooligans. Swear to god, you’re worse than me when I was your age.” He wagged a stern finger. “At least get your safety goggles on. Your respective moms and aunts are going to kill me if I send you back blind.”_

_The boys snickered at Tony’s attempt to parent, but they obediently pulled down the goggles over their faces. Despite any potential explosions, Bucky didn’t actually worry about the boys. He’d seen the three scientists work down here plenty of times now and Tony (with the help of an even more watchful Friday) had multiple fail safes and safety measures in place to protect the boys._

_Excited squeals pulled him back to the present just in time to see the boys high-five each other as some substance on the bench in front of them changed colors and began to foam. The boys had been working on a chemical formula that would improve the durability of Peter’s webs without losing elasticity and by the excited exclamations, something was obviously going right._

_The boys were too focused on the experiment to pay attention to Bucky, but Tony turned to him and waved, his face lighting up with a bright, boyish grin. Bucky snapped another picture, both to commit that beautiful sight to film and because it pulled a predictable eye roll out of Tony, which was then followed by Tony transforming into an actual teenager himself, just long enough to stick his tongue out at Bucky. That adorable sight was immortalized on film too and they both laughed, enjoying the cheerful atmosphere, the simple, uncomplicated pleasure of this moment. Their eyes still locked on each, they didn’t need words to say how much this meant to them both._

***

“Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky opened his eyes, letting the memory fade. He smiled when the King appeared from behind one of the towering bookshelf.

“Your Majesty, it’s good to see you,” Bucky inclined his head respectfully. Not wanting to slouch in front of the King, Bucky sat up straighter and scratched absently at his beard, which was probably thicker now than he’d ever had it. “I take it you’re back from your trip?”

“Yes, and it was quite the eventful one. Several surprises I did not expect and one in particular that concerns you and your former allies.”

Bucky felt his breath catch. “What you do mean?”

“It appears the US government has been busy negotiating behind closed doors, but a motion was finally announced last night and put to a vote. It is now official - you and the others are pardoned and welcomed back to the United States. Congratulations, Mr. Barnes, you finally have your rightful chance to go home.”

_Home._

So many bittersweet memories suddenly flooded back and Bucky belatedly realized it was probably rude not to respond with some form of gratitude, but T’Challa took pity on him and ignored his lack of manners.

“I’ve spoken to Mr. Stark and it appears all of you will be housed at the Avengers Compound for the foreseeable future. Fitting, I suppose, as they expect most of you to pick up the superhero mantle once again.”

T’Challa went on to give Bucky additional details, but the words might as well have been gibberish because all Bucky could think about was the fact that he would see Tony again.

But not his Tony, no, never again. He would have to face the Tony that never loved him, had never offered him forgiveness and mercy and hope. He would have to face the Tony that saw him as nothing more than a killer and a monster.

For some— _stupid, foolish, naive_ — reason, he had himself convinced he’d avoid this indefinitely, just stay here in Wakanda until he quietly withered away, but now they expected him _home_ and the idea of starting over with no guarantee that he’d ever be forgiven or that he’d ever be trusted again left him terrified. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super behind on comments (let's be real, I'm super behind on _life_ right now), so bear with me if my replies to all you lovely people are super slow. Enjoy!

_“Are those chocolate covered strawberries?” was the first thing Tony blurted out as he walked in through the door. “Oh my god, they are. And— there are candles. There are actual_ candles _all over our room.”_

_Bucky’s grin bordered on bashful. “Got some fancy oils for a massage too. You’ve been working non stop for two days,” he shrugged, “just wanted to do something romantic.”_

_Tony was still squinting at the candles even as he walked over sit next to Bucky on the bed. “This isn’t just ‘romantic’, babe, this is rom-com level of cheesy.”_

_“I just— never got to do this with anyone, I guess… You, uh— you don’t like it?”_

_Tony must’ve caught the insecurity lurking in Bucky’s voice because the man turned to face him fully and reached out the run a gentle hand over Bucky’s freshly shaved cheek._

_“I love it,” Tony assured with a smile, “it’s ridiculous and cheesy and_ I love it _.”_

 _Tony followed the declaration up with a kiss before pulling away. “Now come on, babe, feed me one of those strawberries and then you can make sweet,_ passionate _love to me in gentle caress of the candlelight.”_

 _One second, two, and then they both burst into laughter. Tony grinned at him, unashamed of that ridiculous delivery, but the joke was on Tony because that was_ exactly _what Bucky intended to do. Despite the mirth that made his shoulders shake, Bucky reached for a strawberry and presented it to Tony who first made a show of licking his lips before taking a delicate bite. Of course, the man proceeded to also let out an exaggerated moan that no strawberry in the world actually deserved, then licked his lips again, sly and mischievous and so damn gorgeous. God, Tony knew_ exactly _what he was doing to Bucky, taking him apart with nothing more than a smile._

 _But then Bucky just kissed that gorgeous smile away, tasting chocolate and strawberries and_ heaven _on Tony’s lips, and he was whole again._

***

The chill of the air inside the jet alerted him to his wakefulness, but Bucky didn’t bother opening his eyes. Didn’t bother moving at all, not even enough to alleviate the pain in his neck and shoulders as the hard back of the chair cut into him. Quinjet chairs sure weren’t made for comfort, were they?

Steve and Wilson were talking somewhere to his left, hushed tones that weren’t quite low enough to mask the words from Bucky’s super soldier hearing. Bucky hoped like hell it wasn’t another “inconspicuous” conversation about Bucky’s behavior and how he wasn’t the man Steve remembered (Steve took it personally that Bucky left to go with T’Challa without so much as a word, but since it _was_ personal, Bucky didn’t bother being annoyed).

Thankfully, the quiet conversation was about Wilson’s elderly mother and his plans to visit her as soon as he could, so Bucky didn’t bother eavesdropping.

The rest of the passengers were silent. The witch sat at the furthest spot away from Bucky— _mutual decision on everyone’s part_ — while Natalia and Barton were at the front piloting the jet. Lang was a few seats over, closest to Bucky.

T’Challa did offer to fly him back separately, but the US politicians (and the Avengers and whoever else was waiting for them on US soil) expected them all to arrive as one perfectly united group of prodigal sons and daughters, and Bucky didn’t want to stir up any more trouble than necessary. This reunion was already going to be a difficult one, especially for Tony, and there was no need to add fuel to the fire. 

In the meantime, Steve’s attitude towards Bucky jumped between hot and cold, an interesting mix of frustrated, hurt, pleading, and suspicious (there was a rumor now that something about the cryostasis chamber malfunctioned and Bucky came back even more broken than before, which again, wasn’t exactly _wrong_ ). Barton and the witch still treated him like the enemy of the state, while the others politely avoided him. At this point, Bucky didn’t even bother with antagonism. The Soldier clung to their shared anger like a priced treasure, he always did, but even he didn’t want to waste the energy on the disgraced Avengers. 

Bucky himself would’ve been willing to find common ground again— despite everything, Bucky wasn’t a goddamn robot and it still _hurt_ losing Steve like this—  but even when his only demand was an ounce of regret on their part, none of them were willing to meet him halfway.

He wondered, however, whether their attitudes would change once their lives resumed at the Avengers Compound. 

Even like this, Bucky could feel everyone’s anticipation, all the conflicting emotions buzzing in the small space, equal parts excitement and apprehension. All of them were glad to be going home, but none of them were looking forward to facing the man they fought— _and left behind_ — almost two years ago.

And Bucky?

He had no home to come back to and the thought of facing Tony didn’t just leave him apprehensive, it left him _terrified_. Seeing Tony, alive and well and whole, it should’ve been a joyous moment, but Bucky was just so damn afraid (and always so damn selfish). 

He wasn’t afraid because he thought Tony would punish him for past transgressions or demand reparations though. No, that sentiment Bucky would face willingly, he’d prostrate himself before Tony and beg for forgiveness if it meant a chance to see mercy in those warm eyes. He’d take whatever Tony deemed as just punishment without a single complaint if only that would lessen the burden Tony carried on his shoulders. 

But the world didn’t work like that. Reality wasn’t as simple as the fantasy his mind cobbled up together out of Bucky’s desire to atone and his desperate need to be forgiven, to be trusted and loved.

Tony had no reason to forgive and Bucky had no right to ask for mercy.

The real reason for Bucky’s terror was simple - he wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to keep up with his facade, to pretend that he wasn’t deeply, madly in love with a man who never existed, a ghost who wore Tony’s face. Bucky wasn’t sure he was strong enough to face Tony without falling to his knees and begging the man to remember him, to take him back. 

What a sight that would be. He wondered if Tony would just laugh at the display or ask someone to remove the _crazy, pathetic lunatic_ sobbing on his shiny, clean floor.

Natalia came over and murmured something about them landing in a half an hour. Clever spider, perceptive enough to know he wasn’t actually asleep, but he supposed he didn’t bother making it convincing enough in the first place. His eyes opened to take in her concerned face, the curious tilt of her head. He acknowledged her words with a smile that probably came off looking more like a grimace and as she walked back to the front, he wondered if this Natalia Romanova would find a way to reconcile with Tony without the Winter Soldier standing between them.

He wondered whether any of them would find a way to rebuild their former lives and the relationships they left behind. And what about him? Building a new life for himself, for the _second_ time, sounded daunting. Sure, there were certain elements built into the pardon that were meant to ease him into this life. Therapy, a stipend, vocational training. It was generous, to be fair, given that he was no better than a common criminal, and he was sure he’d be grateful for it once the future inevitably caught up with him. 

They were all coming back and given this basic support because the world needed Avengers. Unfortunately, the world didn’t really need Bucky Barnes. He was essentially alone now and it _hurt_ , every damn time, to close his eyes and dream of a place where people gave a damn about him.

Steve gave a damn, he supposed, but unfortunately, it was about a man that was long dead.

Bucky clenched his fist and tried to wrestle his anxious mind back under control. He had to let go of those damn false dreams and move forward, work with what he had, even if it paled in comparison to what his addled mind had conjured up. 

He told himself that he could live through this too— _he had lived through worse_ — but the dread at the pit of his stomach just kept growing the closer they got to the Compound, to _Tony_.

***

_By the third hour of his time at the lab, Bucky finally settled in to read the book that was his excuse to come down here in the first place. He just needed a quiet place to read, he said, and both he and Tony conveniently ignored the fact that there was an entire Compound that would’ve worked just as well. Bucky used to worry that he’d run out of excuses to spend time down here, but Tony never seemed to press him for a very convincing one._

_Of course, the actual reading had to take a back seat - first because Bucky was nearly ambushed by two overeager robots (Butterfingers was busy and had to miss out on the fun, poor guy), so the first hour was spent playing fetch and finding ways to politely decline the smoothie Dum-E kept offering him. Tony did warn him about the motor oil (among other things) that ended up in these concoctions, but the bot was so damn proud of his accomplishment that Bucky didn’t want to hurt the poor fella’s feelings._

_Tony, as usual, was no help and in fact spent the whole time snickering at Bucky’s attempts to distract the robot while trying to inconspicuously pour the offending smoothie down the drain._

_By hour two, Tony got sick of not being the center of attention and promptly stole Bucky away from the bots to run tests for Bucky’s arm, which was currently in the final stages of production. Tony’s enthusiasm was infectious and Bucky couldn’t help his own shy smile as he watched Tony bounce back and forth between screens and scanners while talking a mile a minute about the latest upgrades, enhancements, and modifications._

_It was hard for Bucky to take his eyes off Tony. Granted, nowadays that seemed to_ always _be the case, but it was especially true down here. The way Tony worked fascinated him from the beginning. The deliberate movements of those clever hands, the look of concentration in those pretty, brown eyes, the furrowed brows when Tony came across a particularly stubborn problem. Tony would drum his fingers on whatever empty surface was available when he was mulling something over, his face would scrunch up in confusion whenever some equation didn’t make sense. Once in a while, he would start to mumble under his breath, sometimes words and terms that Bucky didn’t understand, sometimes curses and admonishments when a piece of machinery was being particularly stubborn._

_Every bit of Tony fascinated him and the best part of Bucky’s day was getting to spend time down here just so he could watch the man work._

_Unfortunately, that made reading difficult. Why read when he could watch Tony build the future instead?_

_Bucky realized he was caught staring— or rather, daydreaming_ while _he was staring— when he came to and Tony’s eyes were on him, amused now rather than concentrated._

_“Whatcha thinking so hard about, super soldier?”_

_“Not thinking, just… enjoying the peace and quiet, letting my mind wander. You don’t mind, do ya?”_

_Tony smiled, honest and open, and Bucky’s heart swelled. To have Tony look at him like that, after everything— it meant the world to him now._

_“Nah, I like the company.”_

***

“They want us in the big conference room in five, Barnes,” Lang’s voice pulled Bucky’s wandering mind out of the dream and when Bucky opened his eyes, the man was peeking in through the open door of Bucky’s new quarters. The room was nice, but the accommodations here in the East Wing were smaller and far more spartan than the imaginary quarters Bucky had remembered. The bed especially was all wrong. Too hard, too cold, and far too empty. 

He had nothing to unpack, so he used the time after landing to take a long, scalding shower and give himself another mental pep talk to prepare for the inevitable.

“Thanks. I guess we better head over,” Bucky said, trying to keep his voice neutral. Lang was an idiot, but at least he was a _well-meaning_ idiot. The few times they talked in Wakanda before Bucky ran away to live with the royal family, Lang mostly talked about regrets. About letting his starstruck view of Steve obscure plain common sense, about running off without thinking about the consequences. About leaving behind a daughter and being a deadbeat dad.

There was no happy ending in sight for Bucky, but he hoped that Lang would someday get his own. Not without some serious groveling and some damn hard work to fix the mistakes he made, but if it meant one more kid out there had a father in their life, Bucky thought it was worth it.

It probably made him a hypocrite that he didn’t share this same sentiment about Barton’s family, but Bucky was bitter enough not to care.

“You, uh— you wanna walk over there with me?” Lang rubbed the back of his head and gave him a sheepish grin. “I’m so bad with directions, man, and this place is a maze! Fighting Sam on the rooftop did not give me the right amount appreciation for how huge the Compound is.” 

Bucky saw the offer what was it was, an attempt at a friendly gesture, and he accepted it with a modicum of grace. 

While Lang walked at his side, waving his hands animatedly and talking about his plans to visit his kid, Bucky let the Soldier catalog the details around him.

Strange how some of the details here lined up with his dream, but he _had_ seen pictures of the Compound, he supposed, so it wasn’t a huge leap of logic to say that his mind used them to construct its own version. Many parts of the East Wing were photographed and displayed on the internet, a way to provide an insider look into the lives of superheroes for the curious masses.

Frankly, he was just glad they weren’t living in the West Wing because Bucky wasn’t sure he could handle seeing the place and having to accept that it looked nothing like the home he imagined.

Lang stopped in front of him and Bucky realized they had reached the conference room. They were meeting the New Avengers for the first time. 

Suddenly, Bucky had the unyielding urge to turn back, to run and never return here.

But Tony was on the other side of that door and Bucky wasn’t sure he could ever force himself to walk away from that.

***

Unsurprisingly, his eyes fell first on Tony, who was quietly conversing with Rhodes and another man Bucky had never met, and the first thought that took hold of him was the fact that this wasn’t his Tony. The sentiment was so strong, as if someone had screamed it right into his ear, that he nearly stumbled as he walked inside. It played on a loop in his head— _this isn’t my Tony, this isn’t the man I love, it’s not him_ — until he was forced to push the intruding thought away with sheer willpower.

No one spared a glance for the disgraced superhero and one former assassin walking through the doors. Steve, who was already seated in one of the chairs lined up around a table that formed a semi circle, waved them over and they quickly and quietly made their way, taking two empty seats without a word.

Steve gave Lang a smile and then tried to catch Bucky’s eye too. Bucky pointedly ignored him. Instead, he tried to focus on the details of the meeting space, tried to fall back on well-honed instincts, but inevitably, his attention strayed and always came back the man who hadn’t even acknowledged he was in the room.

But Bucky kept trying to think about something, _anything_ else. He noted that the former Avengers were all seated at the table, along with Peter (clad in his uniform), Hope van Dyne, Vision, and several others Bucky couldn’t identify. Stephen Strange and Thor were nowhere to be found.

He assumed Thor was off-planet and Strange, that stubborn, reticent bastard, probably decided he was too good to attend this particular meeting. Bucky reprimanded himself about two seconds after having that thought. He didn’t actually _know_ Strange. 

He didn’t know any of these people.

The other man conversing with Tony and Rhodes cleared his throat and all of their attention was turned to him. He took the few steps necessary to put himself front and center of the meeting space.

“Thank you all for joining us. I’m Daniel Thorne, the Director of the Compound, and I will be your merger czar as we work to integrate the Former Avengers,” he gestured in their direction, “with our current roster. Now, I know the terms of your pardons have been communicated to you multiple times, but let me reiterate…”

The words faded back, irrelevant as they were, as Bucky wondered who Alice Blackwood really was. Was she just a figment of his imagination or a real woman? Someone he met in his youth, perhaps, or someone he encountered on one of his missions as the Asset? 

He swallowed back bile at the thought that she might’ve been one of the people he killed.

The Director was introducing the New Avengers and Bucky began to pay attention when the man turned to face Tony and Rhodes.

“And I’m sure all of you are familiar with our co-leaders, Tony Stark and Colonel James Rhodes. Their primary responsibilities lie with mission profiles, assignments, strategy on and off the field, and the less savory song and dance of handling the politicians and representing us in the public sphere…”

Bucky tracked Tony’s movements, watched as the man’s eyes slid from one disgraced Avenger to another. Finally, they landed on Bucky and their gazes met.

One tiny quirk of the eyebrow and then Tony’s eyes resumed their path, scrutinizing a fidgeting Lang on Bucky’s left. 

Blood began pounding in his ears, drowning out everything else, bile rose in his throat and brought with it nausea, and only the Soldier’s ability to fall back on their training kept him sitting still and upright.

Nothing. There was _nothing_ in Tony’s eyes.

God, he would taken hatred over this, he would’ve preferred anger and recriminations and loathing, he would’ve taken _anything_ other than that cold indifference. A mere acknowledgement of his existence and nothing more. As far as Tony was concerned, Bucky may as well have been a potted plant.

If Bucky were truly a good man, he would’ve celebrated the fact that Tony’s eyes weren’t filled with the pain Bucky saw in Siberia. This past year and a half had obviously been good to the man and Bucky wished he could just be happy, he wished that Tony’s happiness would just be enough to get rid of the damn _ache_ in Bucky’s chest, but he had always been a selfish bastard, hadn’t he? 

Because all he could think about was everything that he had lost. The void in his chest grew bigger and bigger, threatening to swallow him whole and he wished— god, he wished with everything that remained of him that it would. He was so tired of hurting.

His very soul ached, crying out for Tony. The Soldier grieved deep inside him, wanting nothing more than to embrace Tony and claim him as their own, but knowing just as well as Bucky did, that Tony— _this Tony who wasn’t their Tony_ — never belonged to them.

Even if down the line Bucky was lucky enough to have Tony’s forgiveness, maybe even his friendship, he wasn’t sure he could ever bring himself to pursue something _more_. Not with this Tony. 

Hell, chances were, Bucky had gotten everything wrong about who Tony really was. He didn’t know this man, not really, and there was no guarantee, not here in the real world, that they could ever arrive at something more meaningful than this detached sort of professionalism.

Unfortunately, knowing that all of this and _accepting_ it were two very different things. To avoid falling apart in front of an audience, Bucky fell back on familiar instincts, letting his mind slip into something dangerously close to the Asset’s mission mode where the world lost its color and everything tasted like ashes.

When a dismissal was offered, he went through the motions— _stand up, push the chair in, give a short reply to Natalia’s question, walk out, return to quarters_ — each and every move mechanical and steady. He let his legs carry him all the way to his room and only once the door was closed and locked behind him did his body release the tension that had kept him upright. His hand began to tremble and once his legs gave out too, he slid down to the floor and slumped against the door in defeat. 

It was pathetic and weak to break down like this again, he knew that, and he really did want to let go of the damn memories and just _get over this_ , but he couldn’t, not yet, not today. Maybe tomorrow he’d try again, but tonight, he just wanted to grieve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter - Tony and Bucky's first meaningful interaction (finally)! Hmm, I wonder what's gonna happen...


	7. Chapter 7

_“Did we hire a new chef or something because the kitchen smells amazing and… oh,” Tony trailed off, probably when he rounded the corner and realized it was Bucky in the kitchen instead of some fancy chef. Bucky turned around, meeting Tony’s surprised expression with a shy smile._

_“Not a real chef, but that’s real sweet of ya to say, Tony,” he replied, watching as the man walked over to scrutinize Bucky’s handiwork a little more closely. Surprise seemed to be fading in favor of something a little more pleased._

_“Damn, you’ve got some steaks prepped, and veggies— and is that risotto in the pan?”_

_Bucky scooped up a bite-sized portion of the rice onto a wooden spoon and presented it to Tony. “Try some, see if you like it.”_

_Tony eyed the offering first before letting his eyes trail back to meet Bucky’s. He finally took a cautious bite while Bucky’s heart beat a quick staccato against his ribcage._

_He wasn’t sure what compelled him to make a whole dinner like this, but his current excuse was that he was simply_ grateful _for everything that had been offered to him and it was the least he could do. The fact that the other Avengers were all gone for the night and it would be just him and Tony - well, he didn’t have a very good explanation for that._

_His nervousness eased back when Tony let out a satisfied hum._

_“Oh my god, that was really good,” he added and then licked his lips for emphasis while hungrily eyeing the steaks. “You know, you’re getting really good at this, I might have to keep you around just for the tasty food. Was cooking your thing from before?”_

_“Not really,” Bucky admitted with a shrug. He shooed Tony away from the counter, just far enough away so he could have room to work with the steaks which still needed to be seared. “I mean, I remember that I cooked for my younger siblings whenever my ma was too busy working, but we didn’t have a lot, so it was nothing fancy. But Viz and I have been learning together and it’s, uh— it’s nice.” He felt himself flush when he realized Tony was watching him with a look that Bucky would’ve called fond if he were more daring. “It’s nice to do something good for a change, something that makes people happy, you know?”_

_Tony nodded along, as if he knew exactly what Bucky meant, but then Tony also_ smiled _and all Bucky could suddenly think about was those lips that looked so damn soft and inviting. The Soldier, that bastard, wasted no time in making his presence known and filling Bucky’s head with a different way to make someone “happy”._

_What would it be like if he pushed Tony against the counter right then, crowded him in with his body, and then kissed him? He pictured himself licking the earthy traces of risotto out of Tony’s mouth, he imagined how Tony would moan, needy and willing, as the man’s hands scrambled against Bucky’s back for something to hold on to. Bucky would drop to his knees then, kneeling before Tony, desperate to know what Tony himself tasted like—_

_“—ames? Hey, you with me?”_

_Bucky blinked the inappropriate—_ amazing, intoxicating _— image away and pushed the Soldier back until that insufferable ass was back in his usual dark corner._

_“Sorry, just— too many thoughts in here sometimes,” he gestured at his head with the wooden spoon, praying to whichever god was listening that the heat that crept up his face wasn’t actually visible._

_Tony scrutinized him for a moment, but then dismissed it all with a wave. “Not a big deal, we all have our little quirks around here. Now, coming back to what really matters… What do you have planned for dessert?”_

_God, Tony’s unashamed grin always made Bucky’s heart skip a beat. He didn’t even need the Soldier’s obsession with the engineer because everything about the man’s presence captured Bucky’s own attention too, held it prisoner until all Bucky could think about was_ Tony _. It worried him sometimes, terrified him even, because he wasn’t sure what to do with any of his feelings. He would remember their history and wonder if it would all end in disaster somehow._

_“How does Banana Foster sound?”_

_“Sounds perfect, James.”_

_And as Tony’s smile grew, as the man sidled back over to stand next to Bucky while playfully insisting that he wanted to help—_ and I won’t even set the kitchen on fire, I swear, James _— Bucky decided to stop thinking so hard and let himself enjoy this one night without worry._

***

Every night was still haunted by sweet, unattainable dreams and despite Bucky’s best efforts to just _get over it_ , nothing really got better after the first time he saw Tony.

Bucky knew it was foolish, but a small part of him must’ve still clung to a belief that Tony just needed to _see_ him, that once Bucky was right there in front of him, Tony would remember. Tony would smile and call him James and wrap his arms around Bucky, the same way he had done so many times before. He would tell him that everything was alright now, that Bucky wasn’t alone anymore.

He had hoped for something, _anything_ —

There was nothing though and for better or worse, Bucky’s interaction with Tony remained limited, even a week into his stay. A clipped “Barnes,” and an incline of Tony’s head when they were at yet another informational meeting. Tony walking by him in the hallway and giving him a quick glance before shifting his attention back to the StarkPad in his hands. Tony talking with Natalia in one of the common rooms of the East Wing while Bucky sat in a corner with his book, silent and ignored.

Given that Bucky barely even saw the man, it should’ve been easier to move on, but Tony’s presence was still everywhere.

Everyone spoke of him often. Not a single conversation went by without the man being mentioned - by the Avengers, both old and new, by the countless number of people that came and went through the Compound - government aides and UN reps and CIA agents, Bucky lost track of everyone long ago. Stark Industries logo was on every piece of tech in the building and Friday’s voice— oh, sweet Friday who held no affection for him and treated him with the same cold professionalism that she used on the other runaways— that voice alone was enough to keep bringing back one memory after another.

The memories were filled with love and warmth, but all they did was leave him cold. 

Bucky leaned harder against the counter, willing his hand to stop shaking. He was in one of the smaller communal kitchens in the East Wing, empty this late at night and illuminated only by a row of small emergency lights that lined the edge where the walls met the ceiling.

Tonight was another night spent dreaming. The images gutted him with their promise of hope— god, he remembered every detail of that night, the dinner he and Tony shared, the movie that followed and the way they spent the entire time poking fun at the cheesy dialogue, laughing until their sides hurt.

He woke up to a cold bed, an empty room, and the ever-present ache in his chest. Too restless to remain there, Bucky decided to explore the less frequented parts of the Compound and the kitchen had been the most inviting place he came across. With his remaining energy, Bucky even made a cup of tea in some futile effort to calm his nerves. 

The tea was waiting for him on the counter, steaming and steeped, but his hand still kept shaking, his gut still clenched painfully, and drinking anything right then sounded a whole lot like forcing down poison.

_Pathetic._

Not for the first time, Bucky wondered whether he should just leave. He could run, find some place to hide, and give himself the chance to heal far away from here. Maybe this time, he’d even be lucky enough not to have Steve go looking for him. Unfortunately, every time the desire resurfaced, he’d remember triggers, still in his head, still making him vulnerable, making him a _threat_. 

A few days ago, he found out that, in addition to the promised arm, Princess Shuri was also working on a way to help with the Hydra deprogramming and it was now being incorporated into the terms of his pardon. Everything was still in its early stages though and the young woman needed more time to make her device work in practice, but she was brilliant and he had no doubt that she would be successful.

So he stayed put because if nothing else, he had a responsibility to get rid of the thrice-damned triggers so no one could ever use the Winter Soldier as a weapon ever again. With any luck, the arm and the triggers would require a trip back to Wakanda and if T’Challa pitied Bucky enough, the King might even let him stay.

For the time being though, he didn’t attend any of the trainings with the other Avengers and no one seemed particularly inclined to press for his participation. He avoided Steve and the others and the looks he got from everyone else were part pity and part apprehension, so he kept to himself. Besides, he had no intention of ever becoming an Avenger. Not here.

Bucky didn’t have enough courage left in him to be a hero.

However, his brooding didn’t go entirely unnoticed and he _was_ offered traditional therapy, but the unfamiliar doctor who had none of Dr. Vance’s charm and kindness made Bucky’s hairs stand on end. He didn’t come back for the second session.

Logic dictated that this behavior wasn’t sustainable, that Bucky couldn’t keep living as an empty shell of the man he once was, but every time he would get to a point where he _might_ have a chance to start over, something else would remind him that he was alone, surrounded by strangers - worse yet, strangers his mind recognized as _family_ , as loved ones.

He tried to pull in a deep breath, but it broke on a sob and he clenched his eyes shut as tears blurred his vision. One escaped and the sensation of it skirting down his face just reminded him how broken he was.

_Come on, Barnes, didn’t you run out of tears weeks ago?_

Pitiful. He’d lived through hell and back, spent decades fighting the attempts to brainwash him, and now, all it took to break him was one, single dream.

He hoped that the bastards responsible for his torture were rolling in their graves right now, envious that it was _love_ that broke the Winter Soldier. More than that though, he wondered at times whether he should just end it all and join them in hell someday, extract his pound of flesh for the sins they committed while they all burned.

The Soldier murmured admonishments at the treacherous thoughts (after all, there was no baser instinct than the need to _survive_ ) and Bucky reassured him that he would keep fighting. Even though he was tired, so damn tired of feeling like every bit of him was repeatedly broken and then put back together so haphazardly that the sense of wrongness only grew stronger with each day, he still wanted to live. He wanted to find some semblance of happiness for himself again, but he just needed…

He needed Tony.

One more tear, then another, followed by a pitiful sniffle, because his body stopped caring how pathetic he was. His shoulders shook as he tried and failed to keep the grief inside, but his mind wasn’t any better off, forcing him to wonder what _his_ Tony would’ve said, seeing him like this, useless and _broken_ —

“Barnes?”

Bucky’s heart stopped at hearing that voice and he turned around on instinct, but he shouldn’t have, dammit, he should’ve given himself a moment to wipe away the damn tears—

Because there was Tony, standing a few yards away, having just stepped into the kitchen, wide eyes taking in Bucky’s red-rimmed eyes, the wet cheeks, the whole pathetic display.

“Sorry, m’sorry,” Bucky choked out while his trembling hand furiously swiped away at the tears, “I, uh— just needed some tea, I’ll go, I didn’t mean—”

“Hey, it’s fine, you don’t have to run,” Tony insisted, but he was wrong because Bucky _needed_ to run. His poorly constructed facade, it was all shattering to pieces as the seconds ticked by. He grabbed the mug of tea, intent on leaving, but damn it all to hell, his hand was still shaking and the mug slipped from his grasp as he lifted it off the counter. Hot water splattered over his legs and the crash of glass against the tile was deafening in the quiet kitchen.

Bucky was already on his knees, muttering apologies and trying to clean the mess up, when Tony rushed to his side and lowered himself down.

“Barnes, hey, stop that, don’t— no, don’t pick up the damn glass with your hand—”

Tony’s hand wrapped around Bucky’s wrist to pull it away from the ceramic shards on the floor and Bucky stilled. That touch was achingly familiar and yet somehow simultaneously foreign because some part of his mind still howled desperately that this wasn’t _his Tony_. 

It was _too much_ and the room began to blur around him, his lungs stopped working— God, the irony of _him_ having the panic attack over a shattered mug—

“You’re okay, just take a deep breath. Come on, you can do it. Big, long inhale…”

Tony let go of his wrist, but didn’t move away, remaining close so he could murmur encouragements to keep breathing.

Bucky willed himself to listen, willed himself to take Tony’s advice and focus on each ragged breath, counting in his head until the world stopped spinning and air started to fill his lungs up again.

“There you go, you’re doing great. Just focus on the exhale. No need to worry about a broken mug, we have plenty of those.”

Bucky finally found the courage to open his eyes to take in Tony. The man was casually dressed, his usual t-shirt and jeans. A small black smudge adorned his cheek, so he must’ve spent most of the night tucked away in his lab.

Warm brown eyes watched Bucky’s still trembling form with concern. It looked genuine from this angle and Bucky wasn’t sure he knew what to do with that.

“You alright there, Winter Wonder? Think you can stand up for me?”

Bucky’s lips twitched up. His Tony never gave him the bizarre little nicknames he seemed to have for everyone else. “I think so,” he whispered hoarsely and forced himself up onto unsteady legs. “Sorry about all this.”

“No big deal,” Tony shrugged and stood up too. With hands on his hips, he examined the mess on the floor. “Hey, Fri? Send one of the cleaner bots in here, would ya?”

“Sending Trash Annihilator right now, Boss.”

Tony groaned. “No, don’t send _him_. TA doesn’t actually clean, he just smears the mess around even more.”

“And how is he going to learn if you don’t let him practice?”

“Fine, fine,” Tony rolled his eyes before he looked back up at Bucky, “my house is full of bossy, misbehaving AIs, did you know that? I swear I have no idea where they get their attitude from, not even a clue.”

It was obviously a joke, meant to lighten the mood, but Bucky wasn’t sure it helped, not this time, because all it really did was make him long for someone else, a different Tony that didn’t exist, but he tried to smile anyways, hoping he came off looking grateful.

“Thank you. I, uh— I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I just, uh—”

Words failed him because he had no easy way to explain why he was crying in the middle of the night in the dark of an abandoned kitchen.

Something shifted in Tony’s expression and Bucky almost expect to see pity, but he should’ve known better because it had never been pity with Tony. No, even here, Tony looked at him like he _understood_ what it meant to go through hell.

“Like I said, no big deal. You, uh— you want me to take a look at that?” Tony gestured at Bucky’s hand, making him realize (rather belatedly) that he cut himself on the glass. 

There was blood, but the cuts likely already closed, so he shook his head and moved towards the sink. 

“Thank you, but I’m sure it’s fine.” God only knew how he would react to Tony touching him again and besides, he _was_ fine. _Just fine._ The cold water stung, but the pain was a welcomed friend these days and he let the water wash over his skin. He couldn’t scrub, what with only one hand, but the blood hadn’t had a chance to dry, so it washed off easily.

“You said you came down here for some tea?” 

“Hmm?” Bucky was so focused on the blood that it took him a second too long to process the question. “Oh… Yes, I, uh— just had a bad night. Needed something, to, uh— to help.”

“Nightmares?”

Bucky held back the weary laugh that threatened to escape. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Well, how about I make us both a cup? I was actually wandering around looking for coffee, but you know, it’s like four am, I should probably take it easy.”

Bucky shrugged, not arguing the point, and while he dried his hand, Tony grabbed two mugs and a few tea bags out of a drawer that Bucky was pretty sure was filled with random knickknacks and stray papers.

“Listen, Barnes,” Tony kept his voice low as he prepared the drinks, “whatever it is, whatever you’re going through, we can, uh— we can deal with it, okay? I know you’ve had a really hard time here, probably worse than anyone else, but there’s help, there’s resources—”

“You don’t have to pretend that you care,” Bucky whispered, still looking down at his already healed hand.

“I might be an insensitive ass sometimes, I’ll give you that,” Tony paused to pour the hot water out of the tea kettle and into the mugs, “but I’m not so big of an ass that I’d see someone _suffering_ and feel nothing. I just want to help.”

“Even after everything?”

With the kettle back on its stand, Tony’s hands fidgeted with the cuff of his shirt and the man didn’t turn to face Bucky when he spoke. “It’s been over a year. I’ve had a lot of time to think about what happened. I’ve— I’ve moved on. Wanting to see you suffer would be real shitty of me, especially after everything you’ve been through.”

Tony’s mercy never ceased to amaze him. 

“I’m so sorry for all the damage I’ve done to you. God, I wish so many things would’ve turned out differently, but they didn’t and I’m sorry my actions and my mistakes ended up hurting you,” Bucky offered, again. Who the hell knew, maybe he was _already_ dead, maybe this was his eternal punishment now - making amends with the man he now loved and then having it all slip through his fingers, over and over and over.

Or maybe _this_ was just a dream too.

“Thank you,” Tony accepted Bucky’s words with a small nod. “I wish some things would’ve gone a different way too, but so much of what happened… It’s not just your fault, Barnes. Hydra, Ross, Steve, myself… We all have our share of responsibility.” Tony offered him a crooked smile and then grabbed the two steaming mugs. “Hell, at least you have the decency to apologize. Now, come sit with me at the table and we can enjoy our boiled leaf water.”

Bucky was never able to deny Tony anything, so he sat down obediently. Tony offered him one of the mugs— _plain black with no Avengers marketing in sight_ — and then took the seat on the adjacent side of the table. Memories flooded back again, some bits blurry and some crystal clear, all of them making Bucky long for that one simple moment with his Tony. Late night, two cups of tea, and the two of them finding common ground for the first time.

This was surprisingly close, but the setting around them was all wrong. The kitchen looked nothing like the one in the West Wing, the table was dark wood instead of marble, and Tony didn’t say anything as he waited for his tea to cool.

It was all just a coincidence, a tired mind drawing too many parallels.

That was, until Bucky took a sip of the tea and tasted ginger and peach.

He frowned at the mug. “This tea, it’s, uh—” 

“Mostly mint, but peach extract and ginger root thrown in there,” Tony supplied, but then hesitated before adding, “not a big tea drinker myself. I mean, why drink tea when you can have coffee, right? But I usually drink this one when I, uh—”

“When you’ve had a bad day,” Bucky absently murmured, “because Ms. Potts used to drink it whenever she was having a bad day too.” How the hell could he have known about the tea flavor? He took another sip, letting the heat wash over his tongue.

“What did you just say?”

The harsh tone of Tony’s voice startled Bucky out of his thoughts and he looked up to see Tony sporting a frown too, although his was sharpened with suspicion rather than confusion.

“Nothing, it was nothing, I’m sorry—”

“No, no, I heard you,” Tony stood up suddenly, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. He leaned over the table to point at Bucky. “You said I drink this because _Pep_ drinks it. How the hell did you know that? Did you—” Some sudden realization darkened Tony’s expression. “Have you been _spying_ on us?”

“What? No, of course not—” Bucky stammered out, “I’d never—”

“Have you been spying on _Pepper_? What the hell is this? You on one of your Winter Soldier missions?”

“Of course not! Tony, I’m not triggered, I wasn’t spying!” Bucky got out of his own seat too, hand up in surrender, but Tony backed away as soon as he did, putting distance between them. His chest was heaving as he stared incredulously at Bucky. 

“You’d think I’d learn by now, to trust you people. I swear to god, Barnes,” he growled the name, voice taking on a threatening tone Bucky last heard in Siberia, “if you went anywhere near Pepper, if you even _thought_ about touching a hair on her head—”

“Tony, please, I haven’t, it’s not like that!”

“No? Then how did you know what tea she drinks, huh? Hell, even Rhodey doesn’t know I drink this shit when I’m in a bad place! How long have you been spying on us? Are you doing this for Hydra?”

Bucky didn’t think his heart could break any more, but the hurt, the _mistrust_ marring Tony’s features nearly killed him. He never wanted Tony to look at him like that. Before realizing what he did, Bucky took a step forward, the instinct to comfort too strong, but it was a mistake.

The gauntlet materialized around Tony’s hand and then there was a repulsor pointed right at Bucky’s face.

“One more step and I won’t even let Friday do the honors, I’ll just shoot you myself.”

Bucky didn’t dare move. “Please, you have to believe me. I have never spied on you, I’ve never had any intention of hurting you or Ms. Potts—”

“Right, because you just randomly happen to know a private piece of information about us— I swear to god, Barnes, don’t fucking move. How about you tell me who you’re working for instead.”

“I’m not working for anyone, why can’t you—”

“Stop lying! You couldn’t have known that, not without—”

“I _dreamt_ it, okay?” Bucky nearly shouted, realizing a second too late what came out of his mouth. “I know it because I dreamt it,” he still repeated, albeit quieter. He was just so damn _tired_. Bucky only mourned the fact that it wouldn’t change anything. By the end of this, Tony was going to think that Bucky was either a spy or a lunatic.

But at least Tony’s expression shifted just a fraction, fury mingling with confusion. “What the hell does that mean? What, you’re telling me you’re psychic now?”

“No, nothing like that—”

“Then what is it, Barnes? Spit it out.”

Bucky took a deep breath, ignoring the fact that every harsh word was like a slap to the face.

“When I was in cryostasis, I had a dream,” he began, not bothering to keep the tremble out of his voice. His eyes swept the Compound around them. “I had a dream about all of this. I was pardoned, not a week ago, but half a year ago. I came to live here and you used your BARF tech to get rid of the triggers. You built me an arm, you got me help, and we— we became friends.” 

He couldn’t force himself to tell the whole truth— _and then I fell in love with you, sweetheart_ — because Bucky didn’t need to add “creepy and obsessed” to the long list of his character flaws.

Bucky’s explanation didn’t seem to have made any difference though because Tony didn’t lower the repulsor and his wary squint forced Bucky to look away, practically curl in on himself as he hugged his one arm around his torso. God, he was wrong, he _wasn’t_ ready to see hate in Tony’s expressive eyes.

“I remember what tea you drank because I remember _every_ detail, all of the days and hours and minutes, important days when my whole life changed and lazy days filled with nothing.”

Tony still remained silent and Bucky didn’t dare look up. 

“The memories of that dream are so _vivid_ that they’re as real to me as anything else I’ve lived through. I look back at my memories and I can’t tell the difference between the shit Hydra did to me, or my years in Romania, or my time here.” He took another breath to steady himself. “I’m so sorry, Tony I know I sound crazy— I _am_ crazy— but please know that I would never want to hurt you—”

“You expect me to believe this?” More than anything else, Tony just looked befuddled now. “This has got to be the worst lie I’ve ever heard.”

Bucky gave a weary shrug. “If I was really spying on you, wouldn’t you think I’d come up with something more convincing?”

“Touché,” Tony conceded with a grimace and then fidgeted as though he wasn’t sure what the hell to do with Bucky at this point. The repulsor remained trained on Bucky though.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky repeated, in lieu of anything else, to give himself a moment to think. “I assume you know T’Challa has been providing us shelter this whole time?”

“Yeah, figured that one out when Rogers sent me a package through snail mail.”

Bucky snorted. _Jesus Christ, Steve, what the hell?_ “Then ask T’Challa, I’ve been in Wakanda this whole time and I know he had all of us under surveillance. Hell, I was in cryo until, umm…” he searched his head for the date, “until November 17 th, that’s when they unfroze me. I moved to the royal palace two weeks later. All my whereabouts can be accounted for.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed and his head titled just a fraction, so something about what Bucky had said must’ve made him curious. The kitchen fell silent as Tony scrutinized him.

That silence finally stretched into awkwardness though and Bucky had to say something, _anything_. 

“I’ll, uh— I’ll do whatever you think is necessary, I can leave or you can put a tracker on me, or— put me in a padded room or a cell, whatever you want—”

“Tell me something else you remember.”

Bucky frowned, thrown off by the change of direction. “What do you mean?”

“Like the tea thing. Tell me something else you shouldn’t know.”

“Trying to see just how crazy I am?”

“Humor me, would you?”

Even though Bucky actively tried not to think back on the dream— _there were plenty of memories sneaking past his defenses all the damn time anyways_ — Tony’s tone left no room for an argument and Bucky had little left to lose at this point.

“Spiderman’s identity is Peter Parker and he’s a real sweet kid. Has a huge crush on a girl named Liz. You, uh— you like a teaspoon of sugar in your coffee, but only in the first cup of the day. The rest have to be as black and bitter as your soul— or at least that’s how you phrased it.” Bucky stopped, wracking his brain for details that would make him sound less like a spy. “Rhodes once told me you got so drunk at a gala, back when you were young, that instead of a speech, you sang this song, ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’, right on the stage.”

Tony didn’t interrupt, so Bucky took that as his cue to continue. 

“You told me once that as a kid, you loved to read _Cosmos_ by, um— by Sagan, because his view of science gave you hope, helped you focus on the things you loved, instead of the crap you were expected to do. You loved looking up at the stars back then too…” Bucky let the memory of that night take hold of him, remembering the bits of Tony’s soul that the man decided to share. “You were going to propose to Ms. Potts a few years back, but before you had the chance, the two of you got into a big fight over something silly. You didn’t talk for days after that and—”

“Okay, stop, stop,” Tony cut him off suddenly. The repulsor shut down as Tony let his arm drop to his side. The man paced back and forth, while his unarmored hand ran through his hair. “Jesus Christ, okay. How the fuck—”

“I’m so sorry, Tony,” was all Bucky could offer the man, but it didn’t seem like Tony even heard him.

“Friday, can you, uh— can you ping T’Challa real quick?” Tony was still pacing, paying less and less attention to Bucky. “Get the details surrounding Barnes’s cryo. Times, dates, why they pulled him out. If the King argues, tell him it’s important Avengers business and when he gives in, compare it to, uh— compare it to the readings from Project Houdini.” 

Tony stopped next to the island in the middle of the kitchen to drum his fingers on the table top while they waited for Friday to respond. Bucky was so thrown by Tony’s sudden change in behavior that he didn’t say anything, afraid that it would bring back Tony’s anger.

Finally though…

“Uh oh.”

Tony’s fingers stilled. “‘Uh oh’? Friday, I did not program you to say ‘uh oh’.”

“Well, I must have learned it just now because it feels rather appropriate - the anomaly matches up to the time stamp of Mr. Barnes’ spike in vitals as well as the location of the chamber.” 

“How well?”

“Within five seconds and 4.2 meters, respectively, Boss.”

Tony’s eyes widened.

“Run it again.”

“I already did. And then a third time and a fourth.” 

The gauntlet suddenly folded back into a watch, mostly so Tony could use both hands to scrub furiously at his eyes as he groaned.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I don’t believe it. How does this even happen? But shit, it’s the only thing that makes sense, isn’t it? Oh, I swear to god—”

“Tony, what’s going on?”

“—I am going to _murder_ that bastard,” Tony went on, still ignoring Bucky entirely. “Friday, contact said bastard, tell him it’s about his November escapades, and tell him to get over here _right now_ , I don’t care if he’s out saving puppies or fighting inter-dimensional demons—”

Tony didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence because a large orange ring materialized in the middle of the kitchen. Tony didn’t even flinch, but Bucky did, his hackles raised, at least until he realized what the hell he was actually looking at.

As he expected, the Sorcerer Supreme stepped out into the kitchen a moment later.

“Stark, for the last time, I’m not a goddamn Avenger, I am not at your beck and… call…” Strange trailed off, barely one step out of the circle, when his eyes fell on Bucky. The mage squinted, looking perplexed, but then his eyes suddenly went wide as saucers. “…Oh shit.” 

“I knew it!” Tony exclaimed and then pointed an accusatory finger at Strange. “Something seems off about him in your weirdo aura vision, doesn’t it? You remember how you said your little experiment didn’t do anything? ‘I just swapped two rocks, nothing to worry about, get off my back, Stark!’ Any of that ring a bell?” 

“Stark, it wasn’t my intention—”

Tony suddenly pointed at Bucky. “Does that look like a goddamn rock to you?” 

Bucky was so baffled by the entire exchange that all he could do was stand there and gape at the two men arguing back and forth.

“I didn’t realize— well, it was— it was an _unprecedented_ spell that no one has attempted before, you couldn’t possibly comprehend—”

“Maybe that’s because no one was _stupid_ enough to try it before! I can’t believe this, who knows what other shit you messed up when you tried to—”

“Hey!”

Two pairs of eyes snapped back to Bucky, as if Tony and Strange had both just remembered he was still in the room. 

Bucky’s next words were laced with the Soldier’s distaste for being ignored. “What the hell is going on here?”

Tony regarded him with wide eyes, looking a bit more crazed than Bucky _felt_ , especially with the hair standing on ends from the hand that messed it up earlier. Strange refused to meet Bucky’s eyes, tapping his fingers in front of him nervously. 

“Care to tell me what the hell you two are talking about?” Bucky tried again when no explanation followed. “Did Strange do something that messed with the cryo chamber? Is that why my dream was so vivid?”

That finally did the trick of snapping Tony out of his daze. The man pulled in a breath before letting it out in one long exhale and the fingers resumed their drumming, this time against Tony’s thigh.

“I don’t think anything went wrong with the cryo, no,” Tony said and then wet his lips, as if needing the moment to choose his next words.

“Then what is it?” Bucky nearly pleaded, hating to be left in the dark. “I mean, hell, don’t feel bad if you need to say that I’m crazy, I’m well aware, but there’s obviously something else too. Please, I just need to know what happened to me.”

A laugh escaped Tony’s lips, but it was a hysterical sort of laughter that Bucky wasn’t sure he had ever seen before.

“What?”

“Two things, I guess. One, feel free to stab this asshole in a dark alley when you have the chance—”

“Excuse me? I cannot be held responsible—”

“—Because two?” Tony went on as if Strange hadn’t said anything, “I don’t think you’re crazy, Barnes. No, I just think you’re stuck in the wrong fucking universe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN.
> 
> (hopefully none of you are disappointed!)
> 
> And, uh... we should probably go check in on our Tony, huh?


	8. Chapter 8

_Lazy mornings spent making out in the kitchen were quickly becoming Tony’s favorite thing. Most people would say he was a grump before his first cup of coffee, but with a sleep-mussed James pressed against him, Tony could find very little to complain about. He ran a hand down the man’s back, slowly tracing the glorious expanse of muscles before his hand finally found its target and settled snug over James’ ass._

_James nipped at his bottom lip in retaliation before pulling away to let out a breathless laugh. “Why is it that your hand always ends up there?”_

_“Well, with an ass as sweet as yours, there’s nothing I can do to resist its magnetic pull. It’s science, gorgeous, and you can’t argue with science.”_

_“Ridiculous, I swear,” James tried and failed to sound put out. He went right back to kissing Tony and only the ding of the coffee machine managed to pull them apart._

_James brushed a metal thumb over Tony’s bottom lip, gave him that seductive, sly look that made Tony all weak in the knees (and hot and bothered everywhere else), and then of course, the tease pulled away to walk over to the other side of the kitchen for the coffee._

_Tony took a second to gather his wits and let blood flow back to his brain before he joined James._

_“Alright, make sure you give me the right cup this time. Last time we accidentally switched cups, I thought I was going to go into a diabetic coma from the cup of sugar you were… drinking…” Tony trailed off when James didn’t react. _“Babe, you alright?”__

_His boyfriend remained standing there, staring at the steaming mug, unmoving._

_Another beat of silence, then a hoarse whisper, “I can’t do this…”_

_Tony’s blood ran cold as his mind raced with possible implications. “James, what are you talking about?”_

_“Everything’s wrong and I can’t do this… I’m broken, Tony.”_

_The mug of coffee was no longer on the counter. It lay in pieces on the floor as the coffee slowly ran along the grooves of the tiles, but Tony couldn’t look away from James, now when the man turned to face him and there were tears in his eyes._

_“You promised me, Tony, you promised you’d be there when I needed you—”_

_“I am, James, I am here, whatever you need—”_

_“How could you let me fall?”_

_And then the Chitauri portal opened up in the sky, but it wasn’t Tony falling, it was_ James _—_

_It was James swallowed up by black void of space until there was nothing left behind but ashes._

***

Tony came to with a near silent groan as his mind struggled to drag itself out of the nightmare. The visions where he was falling from the portal were never great to begin with, but there was something especially off-putting about this one and it left him feeling like he wanted to crawl out of his skin.

James. He needed James to chase away the dark thoughts.

The man’s warm body was close, pressed against Tony as James slept on his stomach, head turned away to face the room. Tony snuggled in a little bit closer and pressed his lips to James’ shoulder—

The tension that ran through James’ body was instantaneous and even if Tony were completely awake, he wouldn’t have had enough time to dodge the arm that shoved him roughly off the bed as James scrambled away from him. He groaned for real this time, feeling his back protest against the hit it took when he landed in an uncoordinated heap on the floor.

Sleep grogginess quickly wore off though as adrenaline rushed to replace it and Tony managed to get up onto his knees. 

“James, you’re alright, everything is—”

Only to realize he was looking down the barrel of a gun.

James was standing on the other side of the bed, eyes wild and chest heaving, with the gun he usually hid under the pillow pointed straight at Tony’s head.

Tony’s hands went up on instinct while his mind scrambled to understand what the hell was going on. This had to be a relapse or maybe another Soldier episode (granted, the Soldier never pointed a _gun_ at him before).

“James, please put the gun down. You’re safe, you’re at the Compound—”

“How the hell did I get here?” James cut him off, voice rough and laced with barely suppressed panic. The bright blue eyes that were calm and affectionate just hours ago were darting wildly from corner to corner, taking the room in, but they always came back to Tony, who didn’t move, hoping like hell that letting James take in his surroundings would help bring him back. 

“You fell asleep here, remember?” Tony tried again, keeping his voice steady, “you’re at home, at the Avengers Compound, and you’re _safe_ , James—”

“Would you— would you just stop calling me that? And answer the damn question. What the hell am I doing here, Stark?”

Shit, this was worse than Tony thought. “Okay, what’s the last thing you remember?”

James hesitated before answering.

“I went into cryo after— after Siberia.”

Oh god, this was _so much worse_. Somehow though, Tony was still able to keep the rising panic out of his voice, even as his shitty heart kept trying to burst out of his chest. “James, listen, I think you suffered some temporary memory loss, but if we could just—”

“No, stay where you are, don’t move,” James ordered and Tony obeyed, lowering himself back down to his knees again. He watched as James took in Tony’s almost naked form first, then the bed, then his own barely dressed body. Then his eyes were back on Tony and the look of terror there made Tony’s stomach drop straight through the floor.

“What the hell did you do to me?” 

“Nothing, I swear—”

“Last thing I remember is cryo, now I wake up here, in your bed— did you— Did you use the fuckin’ _triggers_ on me? So, you could— you could _use_ me?”

“Jesus christ, James, of course not.” The mere implication made Tony sick to his stomach. “Please, you have to trust me, this isn’t the triggers. This is something else— your memories from the last six months, you’re not accessing them—”

“Six months? You’ve had me here for _six months_? Oh god…” James’ eyes darted back to the bed, desperate and terrified. “Is this— is this some sort of punishment for what I did? Using me as your puppet the same way Hydra did, to— to warm your bed or somethin’?”

Tony had to look up to blink away the tears. He wasn’t sure what was worse, the frightened look of hurt in James’ eyes or the fact that the man would have ever believed Tony capable of something that horrific.

But self-recriminations would have to wait. Tony had a gun pointed at him by a panicked assassin and he should’ve had this situation de-escalated _yesterday_.

“Look, uh— _Barnes_ ,” he forced himself to use the name, “you’re the one in control right now, okay? I’m unarmed, I don’t even have _pants_ on, and you’re the one pointing a deadly weapon at my very squishy human body. I’m not gonna make any rash moves and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t either.”

James didn’t say anything, just watched Tony with more suspicion than Tony had ever seen in those eyes, even before the pardon.

“One of two things is true,” Tony continued, “either I’m lying and I _did_ use the triggers, or I’m telling the truth and you’re suffering from memory loss. Please, _please_ , listen to me. You were pardoned six months ago so you could come here to get help. The triggers are gone, you have a new arm, and we— jesus fuck, I’m not _using_ you, I would never, we’re just— we’re _together_.”

“You expect me to believe that you— what, fell in love with the guy who killed your parents?”

“Okay, yeah, that sounds crazy if you didn’t live through the last six months. But don’t you think I would’ve come up with a more convincing lie if I was, you know, actually lying? Please, tell me, what can I do to prove that I’m not lying? I have— I have photos and videos from the last six months. Your phone over there,” Tony tilted his head carefully, “probably has seven thousand pictures of us together, doing every dumb thing imaginable. There are other people here at the Compound who can verify that you’ve been here of your own free will this whole time, you even have your own therapist—”

“I want Steve.”

Tony’s heart sank. Of course James wanted Rogers. If James didn’t remember anything after cryo, then this was still a James who trusted Rogers, probably more than anyone else in the world. 

_Goddamn it._ Tony really didn’t want the good Captain to be the one to decide whether James believed Tony or whether Tony ended up with a bullet between the eyes.

Not to mention, they’d have to explain the crumpled up sheets on the bed and all the near-nakedness and— yeah, damn it all to hell, Tony was so going to get shot, wasn’t he? 

He really thought there’d be a lot more explosions when death inevitably caught up with him.

But Tony didn’t have much of a choice. Friday was on stand-by, as per her protocol in the event of a relapse, but even though she had access to tranquilizers, Tony was sure she knew as well as he did that James was a faster shot than she was.

“Okay, okay, I can do that. Steve’s not here right now, he’s still back in Wakanda, but I can get him on the phone. Now, I’m going to ask Friday to call him— she’s my, um— a living computer basically, she lives in the walls, for lack of a better word, and I’m just giving you a warning because I don’t want you shooting at me when she responds, okay?”

James gave him a jerky nod.

“You alright there, Fri?” Tony asked first.

“I’m a little scared, Boss,” Friday admitted, unfailingly honest, and the quiver in her voice broke Tony’s heart in a novel way. The only silver lining was that her fear made something shift in James’ expression too. Maybe he was beginning to reconsider who the real hostage in this situation actually was.

“Nothing to be scared of, baby girl, everything’s fine,” Tony reassured despite his own panic, only held at bay by Tony’s preternatural ability to keep it together when shit hit the fan. “Can you dial our number for Wakanda please? I don’t care who picks up, ask for Rogers and tell him it’s, uh— it’s a Winter Soldier emergency.”

Friday gave a quiet assent and the TV on the wall lit up. James’ eyes didn’t leave Tony until Rogers’ worried face came on the screen a moment later.

“Is Bucky okay? What is going… on…” Steve trailed off when he took in the scene in front of him. “Tony, what the hell did you do?”

“Are you serious right now?” Tony nearly screamed, but he forced himself to hold back the rest of the anger. “Okay, I’m just going to ignore that. Steve, James is suffering from memory loss—” 

“What the hell’s going, Stevie?” James spoke over him, “Stark over here is telling me that I’ve been pardoned, out and about for the last six month, getting therapy, getting my head fixed. Told me that the triggers are all gone. But the last thing I remember is you and T’Challa sending me off to the freezer.”

Steve looked about as confused as Tony felt. The Captain took a second to process the information, eyes darting between them.

Tony held his breath as that damn second stretched into eternity.

_Come on, Rogers, either tell the truth or screw me over. Just fucking say something._

“Bucky, I think you need to put the gun down, okay?” Steve finally spoke, words slow and measured and all Captain America, and Tony’s body nearly gave out from relief. “I’m not sure what’s going on right now, but you _were_ pardoned six months ago, you left and you came to the Compound to get the triggers removed. I’m not— I can’t verify everything else Tony said.”

Just like that, Tony’s praises for Captain America turned into curses. “What the hell is wrong with you, Rogers?”

“Tony, I’m sorry, but I just don’t have proof that the triggers are gone, that your Retro Framing whatever system worked. I’m not gonna tell Bucky something I don’t know for sure.”

Tony scrubbed his eyes with his hands, not even caring about the damn gun anymore. “Yeah, because you probably always had your suspicions about me, huh? That I was brainwashing James, right? That I was torturing him over here instead of helping him? Evil, super villain Tony—”

“I’m not saying that, I’m just—”

“Go to hell, Rogers,” Tony ignored Steve’s indignant sputtering and instead turned to face James, who at least appeared less terrified, if no less confused. “Friday, deactivate all countermeasures as they apply to one James Buchanan Barnes,” he ordered, making a point to look James straight in the eye, “even if he shoots me in the head right now, let him walk out of this place unharmed.”

“Boss, this is completely unadvisable—”

“Override Code Alpha Omicron 25529.”

A perplexed sort of astonishment crossed James’ face. “Why would you do that?”

“Because that’s the only thing I can do right now. I’m not about to let you get hurt.”

“Bucky, he’s right, okay?” It sounded like it hurt Steve to say that. “Just put the gun down, please? I’m— I’m pretty sure you’re not brainwashed. The last time we talked— well, you weren’t the Bucky I know, but you seemed… lucid at least,” Steve conceded. 

James’ eyes darted between the screen with Steve’s frowning face and Tony, still kneeling by the bed, still with his hands up, and still completely at James’ mercy.

“The problem is, I’m not sure if I can trust either one of you right now.”

“That’s only fair—”

“—Buck, no, of course you can trust me.”

They responded at the same time and for a moment James seemed torn between them, but his steely gaze ultimately settled on Tony. The column of James’ neck bobbled on a hard swallow.

“Say the triggers.”

They both ignored Steve’s startled protest.

“Are you sure?”

“You said they were gone, didn’t ya?”

“Do you trust me, then?”

James offered a crooked, humorless smile. “No, I don’t,” he answered honestly and broke Tony’s damn heart into pieces, “but I can’t stand here all day in nothing but my damn briefs, pointing the gun at you. Like you said, one of two things is true.”

Tony could hear how the conviction in James’ voice wavered, pulled apart by the real fear underlying that request, and he couldn’t blame the man. God, the two times they had to do this during the therapy was enough to gut Tony to the core.

But James needed him to be strong right now. “ _Zhelaniye_ ,” he whispered, hating the way James flinched. “ _Rzhavyy, semnadtsat’, rassvet,_ ”, the words slipped out like the chant of a curse as he continued. Rogers remained miraculously silent and by the second to last word, James looked more frightened and vulnerable than angry.

Tony closed his eyes, his strength finally failing because he couldn’t stand seeing that expression on his lover’s face. “ _Gruzovoy vagon_ ,” he exhaled.

Silence for one second, then two more, before Tony dared open his eyes. The arm holding the gun was hanging limply at James’ side and the man stared at Tony in shock.

“I’ll be damned,” he finally whispered. Another glance at Steve, who murmured a congratulations, but James didn’t linger on him for very long, always drawn back to Tony. “You really weren’t lying, were you?”

“Told ya,” Tony offered wearily, “and all your memories of Hydra should be muted too, from the therapy. But now, can I put my hands down and get off my knees? Please? I’m not all that young anymore.”  

“Yeah, sure, of course,” James nodded distractedly, studying the room again, but now with a different set of eyes. Tony bit back the groan as his knees protested when he straightened out and with his energy predictably vanishing as soon as the immediate danger was gone, Tony collapsed against the bed and barely managed to get himself into a sitting position so he could put his head between his legs and wait until the room stopped spinning. 

“You alright, Stark?” That was James asking.

“Yup, m’just fine,” Tony mumbled into his hands, “just, ya know, not every morning I get to wake up to a gun pointed at me by my amnesiac boyfriend.”

“ _Boyfriend?_ ” 

_That_ was Rogers.

_Sweet hell, that’s what he decided to latch on to?_

“Fuck off, Rogers,” Tony bit out through clenched teeth, “it’s none of your business.”

“No, I need an explanation for this—”

“Friday, end call.”

The room fell silent and Tony took a moment to just breathe. When his hands stopped tingling and the blood in his ears stopped pounding, he straightened up and looked across the room. Somehow, he was almost surprised to find James still standing there.

“You okay?” the man asked again and Tony wanted to fall apart and tell him that, no, he wasn’t even remotely okay. 

But falling apart was not what James needed right now.

“I’m fine, just needed a moment.”

James shifted from foot to foot. “Sorry about— well, shit, _everything_. I was just so fuckin’ scared when I woke up, I didn’t know what else to think—”

“James— sorry, _Barnes_ — it’s okay. You had every right to panic. Just, uh— does this mean you believe me now?”

“I have to, don’t I? Steve confirmed that I was pardoned and the triggers— jesus, the triggers are _gone_ , I never thought that I’d be free of those damn things and—” James stopped, pulled in a ragged breath, and then continued, “and all the memories, I think back to all the shit that Hydra did to me and it’s not— not as bad as it used to be, not at all. Muted, like you said. Still feels like I wanna crawl out of my skin, or— or like someone stuffed me back in all wrong, but I guess that comes with waking up with half a year missing.”

“We’ll figure this out, whatever it takes, whatever you need. We have tech, experts, all the resources we need at our disposal. We’ll get you better, I promise.”

“What if I don’t get better though? What if I can’t remember all of… _this_?” he gestured to Tony and the rumpled sheets on their bed.

The one possibility Tony desperately tried not to think about, even if the pragmatist within him kept whispering that James forgetting him was still a better alternative than so many others.

“I wouldn’t give up hope just yet, but if it comes down to that, then you just start again, that’s all. There are people here who love you, who are going to support you no matter what.”

James regarded him for one long moment. “Were the two of us— were we really that close?”

The ache in Tony’s chest approached _unbearable_ and when he looked into those blue eyes, he wanted to weep because there was no recognition there, _nothing_ but a wary look filled with apprehension and doubt.

“We were in love.”


	9. Chapter 9

_“Hey, Tony, you’re finally back,” James looked up as soon as Tony entered the common room. The super soldier was lounging on the couch with a book—_ still paperback, that heretic _— and everything about his relaxed posture and inviting smile had Tony wanting to curl up next to him and pass out for an hour or ten._

_The temptation was harder than ever to ignore, especially after what happened down in the server room a few nights ago._

_He and James, they were…_ something _right now. Not a couple, but also not entirely…_ not _together. All Tony knew is that he was in love— stupidly in love— and he wanted James all to himself, but what if James wanted something else? Could he really want_ Tony _? And if he did, would it really last when James realized he could do better?_

_Dammit, he was too exhausted for this shit. All Tony really wanted to do was cuddle up (just a little bit) to his favorite super soldier, so ignoring all his stupid thoughts just this once, he walked over to the couch and promptly collapsed next to James, leaning against the man’s flesh arm._

_James patted his shoulder consolingly with the metal hand. “Tough day with the UN delegates?”_

_“Oh my god, I thought it would never end. I had to deal with that_ and _I had to make additional upgrades to security. Natasha’s little visit got everyone extra paranoid.”_

_James hummed and then brushed a lock of Tony’s hair out of the way before pressing a kiss to the crown of Tony’s head._

_Tony nearly melted. God, being this close to James was intoxicating and what he should’ve been doing right then was getting up, chugging some coffee, and_ behaving himself _, but instead he was torn between letting himself fall asleep just like this or giving into the far more inappropriate temptation to climb into James’ lap and never, ever leave._

_“Are you done for the day then?”_

_Tony nodded against James’ shoulder._

_“Did you eat at all?”_

_A more hesitant shake this time._

_James released a sigh. “Tony, sweetheart, you need to take care of yourself.”_

_“M’so tired though…” Tony mumbled petulantly. The warmth in his chest at James calling him all these pet names wasn’t giving him much of an incentive to move either._

_“Okay, I think I have a good plan. How about you grab that blanket over there and get yourself comfortable, I’ll go in the kitchen and grab something for ya, and then once you’re fed, you can stay here and keep me company?” Tony looked up to see James imploring him with those damn puppy dog eyes, a soft shade of blue and completely irresistible. “You can even sneak a quick nap in. I promise I’ll keep you safe from all the spies and the UN delegates.”_

_Well, with an offer like that, how could Tony refuse? “Thanks, James,” he murmured his gratitude and then, before all the damn insecurities caught up with him, he pressed up to brush a kiss over James’ cheek. “You’re kinda amazing, you know that?”_

_Even with the promise to talk soon, Tony had no idea where the two of them were headed. He was terrified to be honest, of being rejected and forgotten, but seeing the surprise on James’ face when Tony kissed him turning into joy was worth this one moment of vulnerability._

***

“Stark?”

Tony was startled out of the memory, mostly by how unsettling it was to hear that familiar voice without any of its usual fondness. He blinked open his eyes and cleared his throat before speaking.

“Barnes, hey there,” Tony waved him over to where he was sitting. The couch and the common room were both empty, for which Tony was grateful. This whole mess was difficult enough to deal with without witnesses. “How did your session with Fatima go?”

James obediently walked over and settled in on the edge of the low table in front of the couch so he could face Tony. “It was good. She’s a real nice lady,”  he offered with a small smile, “I can see why I liked her, you know, before all this.”

“Good, I just want you to be comfortable and I thought that having her here, as an outside party, would help.” Tony rubbed his hand against his thigh nervously. “I’m sure this still has to be hell for you though, huh? Stuck here with people you don’t know, stuck with me—”

“Stark, come on,” James cut him off. For a moment, it looked like James was going to reach out, maybe pat Tony’s knee, but the man hesitated and pulled back. Tony’s heart broke all over again. “It ain’t Hydra I’m stuck with.”

“I’m glad we’re exceeding the literal lowest bar possible,” Tony countered and threw in a rueful smile.

James shook his head. “You know it’s not like that. I mean, yeah, I’m disoriented as hell, I feel like I have two left feet, nothing feels right. I don’t remember a chunk of my life, but all of you here, you’ve been real good to me. Even when, ya know, I threatened to shoot you that first morning.” 

Guilt marred the man’s face and Tony gathered just enough courage to knock his knee against James’.

“Hey, stop that. I would’ve reached for a gun too if I were in your place.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t change the fact that you and I,” he gestured between them, “we have one hell of a history and that wasn’t— that wasn’t the first time I tried to, uh— to hurt you and that’s the last thing I wanna do.”

“We moved past all that, I promise.” 

James huffed a small laugh. “Out of everything, I think that’s still the hardest thing to believe.”

Tony knew James didn’t mean that maliciously, but the words still lodged a damn knife into Tony’s chest. Was James’ opinion of Tony really that low before the pardon? 

He supposed he never gave James a reason to believe otherwise.

“Can I ask why you stayed?” Tony asked instead, ignoring the rest of his thoughts. “Here, I mean. I told you that you were a free man, you could’ve gone back to, uh—”

“To Stevie?”

Tony just shrugged.

“I guess I could’ve,” James said as he brushed a lock of hair out of his face, frowning at the length, “but things were… _complicated_ between us before I went into the freezer. Plus, I know I need help, all you folks here seem decent _and_ helpful, even if I don’t remember you, while Stevie’s still on the run, isn’t he?”

“Technically, yeah. The pardons were signed, but then the government got sued because of them. The lawsuit won’t hold up in court, but it’s preventing Steve and the others from coming back until it’s all cleared up.”

James gave him a pointed look. “See? That sounds like a real mess and I’d rather not get tangled up in another one if I can help it.”

While Tony contemplated what to say to that, James pulled out a phone— _his phone_ — from his pocket and examined it curiously.

“I went through all the photos and videos on this thing,” he said after a beat before glancing up at Tony, “I sure took a lot of pictures, didn’t I?”

“You said it helped you remember things better.”

James crooked smile matched Tony’s own weariness. “Well, that’s real damn ironic, isn’t it? But seeing all this,” he turned the phone on and carefully began flipping through the images, most of them selfies of James and Tony, “it helps a little. At least I don’t have to worry that you were keeping me locked up in the basement or something.” James stopped and cringed, especially when he saw Tony look away. “Stark, I’m real sorry about what I said before. The accusations I made… I was just scared and—”

“No apologies necessary,” Tony assured again, ignoring the fact that his throat was dry and his eyes wet. After all, James had nothing to feel guilty about and Tony… well, Tony was breaking apart inside, little by little. 

Earnest blue eyes looked back at him and Tony wanted to smile, to offer comfort, but something inside him, some treacherous part of his mind kept trying to convince him that this was all wrong.

_This isn’t my James_ , it would whisper when Tony looked at the man and Tony hated himself for it. Was he really that selfish that some part of him, any part, would reject James just because of this one setback?

Yes, the last six months were important. Barring (ironically) the death of his parents and the time during and after Afghanistan, this past half a year was one of the most impactful points of Tony’s life.

If he had to, Tony would give it all up though. Tony loved James enough to help the man start over even if that meant their lives would lead them down a different path the second time around. 

He’d do whatever was necessary, but some part of him refused to stop with the treacherous little whispers that kept telling him this wasn’t the man he fell in love with.

Tony pushed it all away, like he always did, because this wasn’t about him. He had to be strong for James. 

This time, he offered a real smile. 

“Everything will be fine, I promise.” 

James put the phone down, handling it so carefully (likely because he wasn’t aware that the phone was reinforced a hundred times over to match his strength). He took a moment to take in his metal hand then, flexing it and wiggling the fingers, watching as the limb followed his every mental command. 

“I gotta say, I really hope that I remember everything.”

“Yeah?” Tony didn’t bother hiding the flair of hope that spilled into the word.

A shy glance met his own. “Probably sounds real selfish of me, but from everything that I’ve gathered, I had a good thing going here. Better than good, if I’m honest. Triggers gone, fancy new arm, even got a real therapist helping me.”

“You have a lot of people in your corner, James—” Tony grimaced when he caught himself. “Sorry, it’s a habit. I’ve called you James for a lot longer than I’ve called you Barnes.”

James shrugged. “S’alright. I mean, being called James is weird, I don’t remember the last time someone used my given name, but I don’t hold it against ya.”

Tony swallowed back the bitter longing for the man who disappeared along with the memories. “Well, I’ll try to stick with last names until we’re comfortable. Whatever I can do, because I can’t even imagine how hard this must be for you.”

James tried to brush off the concern, but Tony knocked their knees again. “ I told you, we all care about you… Every part of you, by the way, and I’ve been meaning to ask - how’s the Soldier handling all this?”

The man lifted his head to grace Tony with a confused look. “The who?”

Tony frowned, sudden unease crawling up his spine. “You know, the Soldier? The dark, growly part of your mind that wants to bathe in Hydra’s blood, among other things?”

James just kept looking at him like Tony grew a second head.

“You mean like the Winter Soldier or somethin’? But the triggers are gone, aren’t they?”

“No, they are, they are, but this wasn’t—” Tony struggled to explain, waving his hands uselessly while his mind raced with apprehension, “to cope with the trauma you suffered, your mind basically split in two. There’s you and then there’s the Soldier, who’s the embodiment of your baser instincts and all the Winter Soldier training. More or less, it’s not a perfect, clean split.”

“So like… a second personality?” When Tony nodded, James scrubbed at his face with a hand. “No, I don’t remember anything like that at all. Was this something that came up once I started getting therapy?”

“No, you said the Soldier came to the surface when you were in Romania.”

“Huh,” James contemplated that for a moment, “so I should remember that, shouldn’t I?”

“In theory. You seem to remember everything else.”

James let out a long sigh. “Sorry, Stark, I don’t know what to tell you, but other than Hydra’s dirty paws, s’always just been me in my head.” His shoulders slumped and the weariness turned a touch rueful. “Jesus, it’s still a real mess up there in my head though, isn’t it? You sure you still wanna deal with me? Now’s the perfect time to trade in for a newer model. I won’t even hold it against ya.”

Tony met those tired blue eyes head on, refusing to look away even when his mind begged him to.

_You’re not my James._

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, pal. I’m not giving up on you.”

***

Tony found the nearest chair and promptly collapsed into it as soon as he made it down to Fatima’s temporary office at the Compound.

“Please tell me you have some good news. Or any news really. Anything to explain what the hell’s going on.” 

He wasn’t expecting a miracle, but the apologetic look the doctor offered made Tony’s heart sink right back down to his feet.

“I’m sorry,” Fatima added and shook her head, curls moving gracefully with the movement, “I looked at everything we have and frankly I’m stumped. There’s no recent physical trauma, nothing to indicate a cause for the memory loss. Granted, we’re dealing with an already unique case, but still, to have such a clean break in memories is unusual.”

“Plus, he has no recollection of the Soldier, which throws another wrench into the equation.” Tony groaned, thumping his head back against the cushioned chair. His eyes were unfocused as he stared at the ceiling above him. “What the hell are we going to do?”

“How are you holding up, Tony?” Fatima asked instead and that got Tony’s attention right back. 

“What? I’m fine, James is the one with the severe memory loss.”

“Yes, I’m well aware,” Fatima said and gave him a look that always made him want to fidget, “but he’s not the only one stuck in a very distressing situation. You woke up to your significant other pointing a gun at you.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Tony repeated tersely. He was _just fine_ and he didn’t need to be babied. This wasn’t about him. “All I need is to figure out a way to help James.”

Fatima knowing eyes didn’t leave him, seeing right through his bullshit, and Tony had to be the one to look away first. Didn’t people understand that the more they worried about _him_ , the more he was reminded of how helpless— _useless_ — he was right now?

God, what a clusterfuck.

James, with no good memories of Tony, cautious and mistrustful now, only sticking around because he needed their help. Tony, feeling like he lost the one thing that kept him steady. 

But the worst thing was Tony’s selfishness, and why wasn’t he surprised? Wasn’t that always the case? Here was James, alive and still in one piece. Even that initial terror in his eyes was now gone and Tony should’ve been thankful, but here _he_ was, drowning in self-pity.

He pushed the recriminations away and asked, “Did you get anything useful out of the scans from today?” 

Said scans appeared on the large screen opposite of Fatima’s desk and they both took a second to analyze the information displayed.

“I’m not sure if it counts as _useful_ ,” Fatima broke the silence, “but it is baffling, if nothing else. The physical structure of the brain, everything matches up to the scans from three weeks ago. This is without a doubt Mr. Barnes’ brain. But then… When I look at the activity within the brain, the way he processes stimuli, the way he responds to standard questions… Well, frankly, if you handed me this data and nothing else, I would’ve told you this were not James Buchanan Barnes.”

Okay, that sounded sufficiently ominous, but Tony had to concede that at least it was _something_. “So whatever changes took place in the last six months— whoever that person he was two days ago— it’s all gone now?”

Fatima’s weary sigh preceded her answer. “Not exactly? The problem is that I accessed the brain scans taken in Wakanda— and please thank King T’Challa for giving us the data— and in theory, those should more closely resemble his brain patterns now. Other than the Soldier, he seems to recall everything else before his cryostasis sleep… but they still don’t match. It’s not just memory loss, it’s as if he’s a different man.”

_God, it’s just getting worse and worse. What the hell am I going to do?_

Tony reprimanded himself for the panicked thought a second later, especially when he realized he was rubbing his hand against his scarred chest. The hand dropped back down to his lap and he forced it to remain there as he met Fatima’s eyes, challenging her to say anything. She knew him too well though and remained silent, letting him have his moment of weakness.

“What does this mean then? Where do we go from here?”

She focused back on the scans. “Well… And please pardon my informality here, but the mind is _messy_ and despite the fact that I have built an entire career around understanding it, we— that is, _humanity_ — still know very little about it. We understand the surface of the moon and the bottom of the oceans better than we do our own minds. Humbling, really, especially when dealing with a case like Mr. Barnes, but it does make it probable that we simply haven’t found the physical cause of the memory loss yet. However, and I hate to say this because above all else, I am a scientist, but…” 

Her smile turned self-deprecating as she leaned back in her seat and let her interlaced fingers rest against her chin. 

“Here, I am not _just_ a scientist. Here, I work with men and women who can fly, who can lift cars and shoot without looking at their target, who can shrink, who phase through walls, and _climb_ those walls like little spiders. Given your peculiar working environment, Dr. Stark, that of superheroes and monsters and magic, I say our best bet is to explore _other_ possibilities as well, beyond the realms of simple physiology.”

Tony himself had been dancing around this same conclusion since the beginning, but having Fatima confirm his suspicions helped. 

“Okay, I can work with that. I’ll get our resident wizard boy on the phone and we’ll see if he can make himself useful. We’ll try every avenue, whatever it takes.” He huffed a tired breath and let himself sag against the arm of the chair. “When in doubt, turn to magic, right?”

Fatima’s dark brown eyes reflected Tony’s own bone-deep fatigue, but she still offered him a kind smile. 

“When in doubt.”

***

Tony stared blankly off into space for another few minutes, then flipped over to his other side, trying to find a comfortable position. 

He failed, again.

With an irritated grunt, Tony roughly threw the blanket off himself, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and sat up, his elbows cutting sharp points into his knees as he hid his face in his hands.

“Fuck, I can’t do this,” he muttered to himself, then scrubbed his eyes, hoping to relieve the pressure building up behind them. That, unfortunately, failed to help too.

He had been twisting and turning in the damn bed for close to two hours now and he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. 

Initially, Tony had offered their quarters to James, but the man politely declined and chose to sleep in an unoccupied guest bedroom on the other side of the wing, which left Tony to sleep in the bed they both shared just days before. 

He avoided their quarters entirely for the first few days, spending the nights down in the lab and passing out at his workbench for a few hours at a time, but tonight, he finally decided to come back, guided by some desperate hope that the familiarity of the bed would help him sleep.

False hope, again.

He always joked that James’ bed was way more comfortable than his own, probably because Friday liked him better and ordered him a better model, but it was never really about the bed. 

The bed was too cold now, the mattress didn’t feel right no matter how Tony tried to settle in, and the blankets that he swore were soft and fluffy actually scraped like sandpaper against his skin. 

It was too damn empty without James, without the warm body pressed against Tony’s back, without the metal arm around his waist keeping him close and safe, without whispered endearments and words of affection.

Tony gritted his teeth against the onslaught of memories and blinked the fleeting images away because he was not going to fucking _cry_.

James was okay, as well as he could be under the circumstances, and Tony had to be grateful for that, if nothing else. 

But laying here, in this bed, was a waste of his time and having made a decision, Tony stood up and left his quarters behind again.

***

He swore blowing things up used to be more satisfying than this. Tony pointed the gauntlet at another target and a fraction of a second later, shards of metal and plastic flew every which way as the training dummy was obliterated by the repulsor. A stray sliver managed to nick him (he wore his pajamas, protective goggles, and not much else), but Tony didn’t even bother wiping away the droplets of blood he could feel trickling down his cheek.

Another target, then two more, as he spun around and fired at everything in sight, wishing he could just blast away the goddamn ache in his chest and the abject sense of loneliness. 

If anyone asked though, he was just here testing out the newest version of the gauntlet (at three o’clock in the morning). 

After half a dozen more training dummies were reduced to ashes, Tony had to take a break (the recoil on the gauntlet was minimal, but it was still there, especially with the added power boost on this model, and his right hand was beginning to ache). Chest heaving from the exertion, he examined the mess littering the floor of the training room.

“I think you missed one, Tones.”

Tony turned around and Rhodey, who stood leaning against the doorway, pointed to one of the training dummies in the back of the room, still standing upright. 

Tony threw the man a withering glare and then spun around to blast said dummy right in the face. 

Again, watching it explode into thousands of tiny pieces gave him no gratification and did nothing to remove the anvil sitting on his chest. The wretched weight was bad enough that it sent his broken mind into a panic sometimes, making him think the reactor was still buried deep inside in there.

“That thorough enough for you, Platypus?” Tony threw out as he approached the man, grabbing a towel on the way to wipe off some of the sweat and the blood.

“How are you holding up?” Rhodey said instead, the worst possible thing he could’ve asked, and Tony only barely refrained from throwing the dirty towel at his friend.

“I’m fine.”

“Right, that’s why you’re destroying one of our training rooms in the middle of the night.”

“I’m testing out the gauntlet.”

“A weird priority for a man whose boyfriend is currently suffering from amnesia.” 

“You know what, just drop it,” Tony snapped, chest heaving again, but it wasn’t the physical strain anymore, no, it was anger and embarrassment and helplessness and grief, all rolled into one gut-wrenching mess.

“Tones, it’s okay to be upset. Come on, you know I’m not gonna judge. Just… talk to me, please.”

At any other time, Tony wouldn’t have hesitated to confide in his best friend. The need to appear strong and unaffected, the need _to be made of iron_ that Howard had beaten into him at a very early age, just wasn’t there anymore, not with Rhodey, replaced long ago by trust and affection and years of friendship. However, tonight, with everything going on, Tony couldn’t just _talk it out_. If he gave form to all the fears swirling inside his head, all the insecurities— _you’re selfish, you’re pathetic, you’re weak, you didn’t stop this and you’re never going to get James back now_ — he’d fall apart for sure.

“I don’t need to talk. I’m fine, okay? I’m just fuckin’ fine, it’s everyone else in my goddamn life that isn’t.” Dammit, he was already saying too much, but he couldn’t stop himself. “You, Happy, Pepper, now James… Just another fucking person I love that I couldn’t protect—”

“Tony, come on, you know this isn’t your fault—”

“Like hell it isn’t! It’s my job to keep all of you safe and I— I’m going to fix this. That’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to fix this mess and everything is going to be _fine_.” 

The regret over harsh words was already setting in, but it felt right at home with all the rest of Tony’s self-recriminations. He turned and left without saying another word.


	10. Chapter 10

_“But we are spending Christmas here, aren’t we, Mr. Stark?”_

_“Only if you two hooligans get good grades and behave yourselves.”_

_Harley and Peter both groaned, but at least they didn’t argue with Tony._ This time.

_Last time, Harley made the mistake of complaining about school and saying it was pointless because they were already way smarter than everyone else._

_The infamous James Rhodes lecture on humility, gratefulness, and the importance of treating your peers with respect rang in all of their ears for hours afterwards (even Tony felt chastised and he wasn’t even the one being lectured)._

_No smart-ass remarks this time though. The boys grumbled a bit, but nodded their assent and turned their attention back to the pizza slices in their hands._

_“Well, I hope you boys do what Tony asked,” James chimed in, “because it’d mean a lot to me if you were here. It’ll be my first real Christmas with everyone, you know?”_

_Tony tried to stifle a laugh by shoving his own slice of pizza into his mouth._ Priceless. _He loved that James’ puppy dog eyes worked on_ everyone _._

_Peter’s own eyes already grew impossibly large and shiny and Harley wasn’t any better off, looking like he accidentally kicked a puppy._

_“Of course we’ll be here!” he insisted, “and we’ll get you some awesome presents too. Right, Pete?”_

_Peter grinned. “We’ll pick out something great, definitely. You know, to make up for Mr. Stark’s terrible gift-giving!”_

_“Hey! Since when are_ you _the one sassing me? I swear, Harley is a terrible influence on you.”_

_“Oh no, I definitely got all my sass from you, Mr. Stark.”_

_Tony’s mock glare remained entirely ineffective as the boys snickered and used the pizza slices to toast each other. In retaliation, Tony wadded up a napkin and threw it at Peter’s head, but the boy caught it without even looking._

That’s my spider-kid.

 _Honestly, it warmed his heart. Harley never had a star-struck phase (at least not with Tony - the kid did_ love _Iron Man), but at first, Peter treated him more like a celebrity than anything else. Later, that hero-worship morphed into a closer, but no less formal, mentor-student relationship._

 _But now, Peter just treated him… well, like a_ dad _._

 _Tony was pretty sure his heart skipped a whole sequence of beats at the thought, but James, with his supernatural ability to know when Tony was about to panic, squeezed Tony’s knee under the table and gave him a fond look. While the boys fought over a slice of pizza (ignoring the stack of entirely_ untouched _pizzas right next to them), James also sneaked a kiss to Tony’s temple._

_“We’re gonna make it through December, yeah?” he whispered against Tony’s skin._

_The loaded meaning behind the question was obvious. Tony found James’ hand and laced their fingers together._

_“Yeah, we will,” he confirmed, entirely honest in his conviction. “We’ll mourn for one night, if we have to, but then we keep living. I can’t wait to spend Christmas with you, James.”_

_“Christmas will be great.”_

_“It’s gonna be the best. Oh, and don’t listen to the troublemakers, I am an excellent gift-giver.”_

_“Miss Potts and a giant pink rabbit would disagree.”_

_Tony groaned. “I knew the two of you hanging out together would backfire on me.”_

_James’ hand traveled steady up his thigh. “Hmm, well, instead of a pink rabbit, how about you get me…”_

_The whispered request carried on a heady breath against Tony’s ear made him blush down to his very toes._

_None of which went unnoticed because the boys both stilled and promptly began to make gagging sounds._

_“You two stop that!” Harley exclaimed while Peter furiously nodded, “I don’t know what you’re whispering about, but you promised no gross, sappy love talk at the dinner table!”_

_James pulled away from Tony and flashed them both a carefree grin. “No, we only promised to stop kissing at the dinner table.”_

_“No, the talking and whispering goes on the list too!” Peter protested._

_“Aw, come on, boys, it’s nothing bad,” Tony said and gave James a conspiratorial wink, “when two people really love each other, their bodies begin to undergo changes—”_

_Tony had to shut up and dodge the piece of pineapple Harley threw at him, to which James retaliated with a very precise pepperoni toss, which was followed by half a bread stick lobbed at the super soldier, and that was how Rhodey found the four of them a minute later - pelting each other with food, threatening doom, and laughing until their sides hurt._

***

“—supposed to be?”

Tony blinked the echoes of laughter away, finding himself back in the present, sitting at the exact same table, but without the familiar joy. 

Christmas was less than a month away and just like that, as if nothing had changed, Tony was dreading December all over again.

He swallowed back the bitter bile. _Pull yourself together, Stark._

“You alright, Stark? You look a little pale.”

Tony suddenly realized James had been watching him expectantly this whole time and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Yup, just peachy keen. Going a little deaf in my old age though, so what was it you were asking me about?”

James didn’t seem particularly satisfied with Tony’s answer, but he let the subject go. “The guy we’re waiting for. Who’s he supposed to be again?”

“Oh, Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme. Comes off as a total dick, but he’s actually a decent guy. And probably our best bet if your memory loss is something other than garden variety physical trauma.”

James took a bite of his food, chewing it methodically. “So he’s a guy who does the whole magic shtick, right?”

“He’s _the_ guy,” Tony clarified, trying to offer James some degree of confidence (Strange did know what he was doing, _most_ of the time). “Trust me, I’m the last person to yell ‘Must be magic!’ every time I come across something that doesn’t make sense, but given the lives we lead…” he trailed off with a shrug.

James nodded and just kept eating, resigned to his fate of always ending up in the middle of chaos, willingly or otherwise. Tony, unfortunately, had a much harder time coming to terms with their current predicament.

He glanced down at his own food, poked it with a fork, and his stomach promptly rebelled. He put the fork down.

Whatever was on his plate remained untouched and he spent the next however many minutes sitting awkwardly across from James while his mind cycled through all the possible _otherworldly_ scenarios responsible for this mess, each one worse than the last.

Hydra could’ve gotten their hands on shiny new alien tech, one of Strange’s pupils could’ve gone rogue, one of the lesser magical villains could’ve lucked out and found something potent enough to penetrate the Compound’s defenses…

Of course the worst scenario possible was tinged with a sickening red. Tony took a deep breath against the rising nausea.

_I swear, if Maximoff got her hands on James, I won’t rest until she rots in hell._

She was in prison right now, highest security possible, but Tony wasn’t naive enough to think that there weren’t ways for her to circumvent their best efforts to keep her locked away. 

The tell-tale orange glow of Strange’s magic pulled Tony out of his dark thoughts and had both him and James jumping to their feet. The orange ring expanded and a second later, Strange stepped through and into their kitchen, dressed in his usual Sorcerer Supreme garb.

“I apologize for the delay. I would’ve come sooner, but I was in the middle of a three-day spell that would’ve likely ripped me in half if I were to end it prematurely.”

“It’s fine,” Tony waved away the apologies, “I’m just glad you made it at all.”

“Of course. Now, what was it I heard about… memory loss…” Strange fell silent as his eyes settled on James. The sorcerer’s head tilted to the side in confusion and then he moved closer. His eyes narrowed.

“Is he supposed to be looking at me like that?” James muttered, looking like he was trying hard not to fidget under the scrutinizing gaze.

“Strange? What’s going on?”

“I’m not… sure. Give me a second.” A wave of his hand, an eruption of shimmering gold that spun around James, who regarded the whole light show like a swarm of bees.

The gold dissipated. “It appears that—” Strange choked suddenly, eyes going wide. “…Oh shit.” 

“Oh shit?” Tony repeated incredulously. “That’s not what I wanna hear from your cryptic ass, Strange!”

James appeared just as frustrated. “You wanna tell us what the hell’s going on?”

Strange shook his head, as if coming out of a stupor. “Well, I’m not entirely sure because I’ve never dealt with this myself, only read about it in spell books, but… well, your body is right where it’s meant to be, Barnes, but your meta-physical essence— your spirit, your _soul_ , for a lack of a better term, well, it’s, uh—”

“Just spit it out, would you?” Tony snarled, anger that wasn’t meant for Strange spilling out without his consent, but dammit, if he didn’t stay angry, he’d just give into panic instead. “What, did someone fuck with his ‘aura’ like Maximoff did with mine?”

“Well, I can’t rule out malevolent tampering entirely, but no, this is nothing like Maximoff’s little magic tricks. It’s much simpler really— and infinitely more complex— but the man standing before me is not the James Barnes I’ve met before.”

James muttered a confused “Excuse me?” while Tony’s stupid, weak heart just stopped altogether.

_This isn’t my James._

“The heart of the matter is, I believe _this_ James Barnes belongs to a different universe.”

***

“Out of my way, mortals, I am here to see the Man of Iron!” 

Tony spun around, along with everyone else, as Loki burst through the doors with his usual diva antics, horned helmet and billowing cape included. Thor trailed at a less dramatic pace behind his brother and then stopped when he reached the threshold, waving a silent hand to everyone.

“Frosty, tone it down, would you—”

“I am gone for a few lousy Midgardian months,” Loki practically hissed, his long, determined strides putting him right in front of Tony, “a few _months_ , and you already managed to lose my blue-eyed soldier—”

“Excuse me?” Oh, Tony was so not in the mood for this. He had enough of his own fucking guilt, thank you very much. “Where the hell do you get off accusing _me_ of anything? And he’s not _your_ soldier, he’s my—”

“Okay, okay, can we not start a shouting match over this?” Strange, that reckless soul, actually placed himself between Loki and Tony. “Finding our James Barnes and sending this one back, that’s the priority. Everyone can shout at each other later.”

When Loki and Tony didn’t resume the yelling, Strange took a cautious step back, although Tony still caught the “When I’m not fucking here to listen to it,” muttered under the sorcerer’s breath. 

Loki took a dramatic breath of his own. “Very well, I will remain calm, for Barnes’ sake.” 

As if on cue, the super soldier shifted from leg to leg, likely struggling to process this bizarre exchange, and the movement immediately drew Loki’s eyes. He tutted as he moved to stand before Barnes— _Tony couldn’t bring himself to call him James anymore_ — while the man examined him suspiciously in turn.

“Oh, you poor dear, look at you. You’re all so wrong, aren’t you? Mind crammed into a body that’s not your own. Why, I’m surprised you’re still walking around and scowling that pretty little scowl at me.”

Barnes ignored Loki’s cooing now in favor of giving _Tony_ an unimpressed look. “This is the ‘god’ who’s supposed to have answers for us? Really? Where do you find these clowns?”

“He has a crush on the other you, ignore his annoying clown ass.” 

“Oh, Stark, do not be jealous. There is always a place reserved in my heart for you,” Loki gave him a saccharine smile, but when his attention shifted back to Barnes, the god’s expression grew somber.

“I must admit though, this is rather unprecedented. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a whole being, not simply from a different realm, but a different _universe_ , brought into our own. Very few beings can perceive the boundaries of our universe, let alone manipulate them at will to reach others.”

“That’s real nice an’ all,” Barnes snarked and backed away to put some distance between himself and Loki. The god didn’t follow. “But can you find _my_ universe and put me back? Bring the other me home?”

“I cannot, no—”

“Wait, what?” Tony shouted and marched right up to Loki and Barnes. “What the hell do you mean, _no_?”

“I _mean_ that opening portals between universes, swapping sentient _beings_ between universes is an endeavor both ambitious _and_ incredibly reckless. It is also one I have never attempted before and believe me, if opening one portal is reckless, finding a being amidst an infinite number of universes is _insane_.” 

“Great, just great,” Tony ran a hand through his hair, pulling at it until it hurt. “So, you’re useless, is what you’re telling me?”

“There’s hardly a need for insults, Stark. I said that bringing back your James is reckless and insane. I did not say it was impossible.”

“Okay, please, just stop with the coy bullshit, would you? Can you help us or not?”

At least Loki had the decency to drop that infuriating, all-knowing smirk. “I have no certain answers, but I _am_ likely your best bet. I have contacts in other realms who know far more than I do about gazing into universes not our own. Some of them even owe me favors I haven’t collected on yet.”

“Okay, yeah, good, that’s good. Go, talk to them all, please, _right now_.” 

When Loki didn’t vanish right away and instead just cocked an unimpressed eyebrow at him, Tony bit back a wounded sound.

“Of course, how could I forget? None of this comes cheap, right? Fine, whatever, what do you want in return? Name it, it’s yours, I don’t care, I’ll give you anything—”

“Oh, Stark, do not promise me your whole world when you are unable to give it.”

“I’m prepared to—”

“Not when the man we’re both looking for _is_ your whole world.” 

Tony should’ve punched Loki in the face right then and there for laying Tony’s heart bare like this in front of everyone. He would’ve too, if he had enough energy left in him to care.

He didn’t though, and besides, Loki wasn’t actually _wrong_. 

The mage stepped closer, smiled down at him (the tall bastard), and while Tony stood there frozen, he tipped Tony’s chin up with his hand.

“And while I would love nothing more than to take that handsome, lovely soldier off your hands, I know he would simply kill me in my sleep and then return to be at your side.” 

Thankfully, Loki pulled his hand back before Tony had to pull away. Or _break_ something. 

“I’ll help you find your soldier without asking for anything in return. Call me sentimental, but I’m rather fond of you both.” 

God, Tony hated the smug bastard, he really did, but for the first time in weeks, Tony could actually let himself _hope_ , just a tiny little bit, and Loki could continue to be his smug self _forever_ if it meant James would get to come home

“I should call you _opportunistic_ too, since helping us good guys is sure gonna look good on your resume.”

Loki just gave him a conspiratorial wink before turning on his heel and pointing at Thor.

“Brother, we’re talking a trip to Elfheim immediately. There is a powerful mage there and they will have the resources we need to prepare ourselves for this…” he glanced back at Tony, “ _reckless_ endeavor.” 

Thor heaved a tired sigh and called for Heimdal. 

***

Loki didn’t return for three weeks. 

On the morning of the 16th, Tony locked himself away in the lab and ordered a total blackout, which included barring even Friday from intruding on his solitude. He resurfaced the next morning and his red-rimmed, haunted eyes must’ve been explanation enough because not even Rhodey had the courage to comment on Tony’s self-imposed exile.

Christmas came and went.

***

Tony stared out of the window in front of him. It had snowed earlier, so the ground was covered with a generous blanket of white powder and the lights of the Compound reflected off it to illuminate the darkness of the night even further. 

He barely paid any attention to the scene outside though. Loki came back a few days ago (maybe Tony could blame the snow on the god too), with some fancy stones and talismans and books that looked older than the collective age of humanity. Both he and Strange circled poor Barnes like two sharks, testing this and that, getting a taste for his “aura” so that they could track it back across the multiverse. Barnes had been handling the whole cryptic mess with the same stoic grace Tony would’ve expected from him. It didn’t matter which universe he hailed from, this was a man who faced Hydra without flinching, who faced the triggers and memories of hell with a brave face. Two sorcerers geeking out over ancient magic probably didn’t even register on Barnes’ radar.

The man also handled the whole “other universe” thing surprisingly well, likely because it actually made more sense than anything else they’ve come up with. If you could accept magic and aliens and gods as real, then the idea of multiple universes really wasn’t that far-fetched. Hell, at this point, even regular human scientists have fielded the multiverse theory for years. 

To Barnes, it was probably a comfort to have this simple explanation for why he woke up one morning in a world he couldn’t remember, in a body that didn’t feel like his own. 

So the mages were busy, Barnes was handling himself like the trained soldier he was, and Tony…

Tony was hiding out in a dark East Wing kitchen while struggling to keep it together.

He had to though, it was the only thing he could do. He was already useless, the last thing he needed was to become a burden for the others. 

The view disappeared as he closed his eyes and leaned on his hands, the marble counter cold against his palms. He willed — _begged_ — his body to stop shaking, but he was only marginally successful.

God, just thinking about James— _his James_ — left him terrified. He was alone somewhere out there, in a foreign universe. Did he know what happened to him? Was anyone helping him? Taking care of him?

After Strange’s revelation, just over a month ago, Tony realized the best case scenario— _and this was such a bitter thought_ — was James remaining in cryostasis through this whole mess. Unfortunately, Loki dashed most of Tony’s hopes by saying that an event as disruptive as a multiverse portal would have disturbed and likely damaged their _simple Midgardian technology_ , which meant there was a good chance that James was awake (Tony didn’t dare let himself entertain the thought of something _worse_ ).

James was alive, Tony was certain of it, but it still meant that James was awake and alone in a universe where he and Tony had never reconciled. 

Tony’s stomach clenched with dread as he imagined what James might’ve been thinking. The idea of multiple universes never came up before, so unless someone else realized it in _that_ universe, it wasn’t likely to be James’ first guess.

Given that he was in cryo beforehand, would James believe that everything he experienced here, with Tony, was nothing but fevered dreams? This was a man whose mind had already been torn apart over and over by monsters, who then put it back together to suit their ill will. Memories were a tenacious thing with James, tattered things that couldn’t always be trusted to reflect his reality, so would it really be that big of a stretch for James to look back at this and think it wasn’t real? Especially if he were presented with a whole different world that very much _was_?

“Fuck, James, I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry…” Tony whispered into the still air around him, wishing, _praying_ that James was okay out there. “Just hang in there, sweetheart, I’m not going to give up until I find you.” 

Maybe if he said it enough times, he’d convince himself of it too.

“If only he could hear such lovely sentiment…” a low murmur had Tony spinning around in surprise and his eyes narrowing in a glare on the next beat.

“Jesus christ, Loki, is privacy not a thing in Asgard? Gonna put a fuckin’ bell on you, I swear to god.”

 _This_ god ignored Tony’s muttered threats and walked over to join him by hopping gracefully up onto the counter where Tony was standing.

Tony rolled his eyes at the asshole, but he didn’t bother leaving. This was his hiding spot, dammit, he found it first.

Instead, he examined the god perched next to him.

“Since when you do know how to dress like a normal person?” Tony inquired in lieu of nothing else to say. Decked out in skinny jeans, a black button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and ankle-length combat boots, Loki could’ve passed for any regular old NYC hipster. Hell, even his hair was drawn back in a _man bun_.

The god smirked. “Please, you must be confusing me with my brother. I am very adapt at blending in with my environment.”

“Really? So the horny helmet then, that’s only for—”

“When I’m feeling exceptionally horny, yes.”

The small laugh that Loki managed to draw out of Tony surprised him, but he was honestly grateful for it. _When in doubt, fall back on inappropriate humor._

“So we all know why I’m hiding here in the dark. Is there a reason you’re skulking around here too?”

“Strange and I let Barnes go for the night. The man is understandably exhausted and there isn’t much more we can get from his presence. We’ll keep working, however, but I decided to take a short break of my own to clear my mind.”

“Thank you _so much_ for using your break to stalk me. Remind me to fire whoever let you wander around the Compound unattended.”

“That would be your favorite Thunder God,” Loki offered slyly, “magic has always bored him to tears, so he decided to go off and chat with your Dr. Banner after deciding that I have been sufficiently good to be left to my own devices.” 

“You, good? Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it.” 

Loki indulged him with a look, before going back to examining his nails. “You know, Anthony, your soldier, he is strong, _resilient_ , and he will be there waiting for you.”

Dammit, really, even _Loki_ wanted to have this conversation with Tony?

“I know all of that. It doesn’t change the fact that finding yourself in a different world, alone, with no clue as to what happened… Fuck…” Tony turned away, refusing to let Loki see him like this. “James has been through so much already, he deserves better than this… And if he’s suffering right now…” How could Tony ever forgive himself? “If I were in that position, if I lost everything in a blink of an eye, if I had to doubt whether I was even _sane_ , I would— fuck, I would—”

Tony couldn’t finish the thought, not when heart-wrenching worry pressed down on his chest to suffocate him.

Loki hummed, sounding infinitely more composed than Tony felt. “Love truly is the one thing that can break unbreakable men. Here you are, so miserable and nearly at your limit, and _you_ have far more answers and tools at your disposal.”

“I thought you said James was going to be _just_ _fine_?”

“I believe he will survive, yes, but that does not mean he is _well_. Unless, _of course_ , your James doesn’t love you quite as much as you do him. Then, letting this world go would not cause him quite so much anguish.”

“Yeah, I guess there’s that,” Tony choked out. He really needed to stop hanging around people who were this annoyingly perceptive, but Loki was right, wasn’t he? It’d be better, for _James_ , to have this thing between them be a little more… _one-sided_.

God, he’d give up James, he would, he’d accept that the man never _really_ loved him at all, if only that would mean James wasn’t suffering somewhere out there.

“Anthony,” Loki called out and Tony reluctantly met the god’s gaze, “you shouldn’t doubt his love for you. You are more precious to him than all the stars in the universe.”

“I shouldn’t be. That way, he’d be okay out there, wherever he is.”

“Would he really? Or would his love for you carry him forward, long enough to give the other half of his soul,” Loki pointed at Tony, “enough time to find him?”

Tony scoffed while trying to mask a treacherous sniffle and blink away the wetness in his eyes. “If you’re implying that we’re soulmates, I’m gonna have to call bullshit. I don’t believe in fate or destiny or whatever else you wanna call it. We are who we are because of the decisions we make, because of the decisions _others_ around us make. James and I are— we are what we are because of the shit we’ve been through, because of the choices we made along the way. We made us happen, through sacrifice and hard work and sheer damn luck, but it’s not because we were destined to be together.”

Loki indulged Tony’s little rant and didn’t say anything, not until Tony slumped against the counter, suddenly so fucking tired.

“Calling it destiny does cheapen it somehow, doesn’t it?”

“See? You get it.”

There was something almost soft about Loki’s expression and Tony had no clue what the hell to do with that. To be honest, Tony wasn’t sure how to deal with any of this anymore, but he supposed he should focus on one bizarre situation at a time.

Having a heart-to-heart with a former enemy didn’t rank as high up on the list anymore as it should’ve.

“We will bring him back.”

“How can you be so sure? You said it yourself, infinite universes, in infinite directions. Tracking one little human—”

“Is ambitious, reckless, and insane, yes, but come now, Anthony, are those not the traits that define our very nature?”

He hopped off the counter, just as gracefully as he seemed to manage everything else. A cool hand laid itself on Tony’s shoulder.

“You may not trust me in many things, and you are very wise to do so. However, trust my own ambition. Have faith in our combined recklessness. We’ll bring your soldier home, even if we have to upend every universe standing in our way to do so.”


	11. Chapter 11

_The sensation of being comfortable and warm while slowly drifting off into sleep was a rare luxury for someone who was trained to be alert at all times (and had to be for very good reasons). Even during the war, restful sleep was something no soldier had, and the Asset only slept when his brain was wiped and he was put back into the freezer._

_So Bucky always treasured moments like these. He was safe, he wasn’t in pain, he wasn’t on the run. The book he was reading was still in his lap, but he closed his eyes when the words began to run together. He could be back to full vigilance within a second (and the Soldier, well, he never truly slept), but for now, there was no threat and he let his mind sink into that inviting warmth._

_Tony grumbled something Bucky couldn’t decipher and he felt the engineer tilt his head where it was resting against Bucky’s hip._

_“What’s that, sweetheart?” Bucky murmured, still keeping his eyes closed._

_“You stopped with the, uh— with the head scratchies.”_

_Bucky felt his lips stretch into a lazy smile and he had to open his eyes this time, if only to see the little put-upon pout on Tony’s face._

_“Head scratchies?”_

_“Don’t judge me.”_

_“My hand got tired.”_

_Tony squinted at him, unimpressed. “Your mechanical arm made out of vibranium with pain receptors you can toggle on and off? That’s the hand that got tired?”_

_“Mm-hmm.”_

_Tony tossed his large drawing pad full of blueprints to the side, twisted around, pushed Bucky’s book away too, and then proceeded to drape himself across Bucky’s midsection._

_The big brown eyes practically begging for attention were more than enough to return Bucky to his earlier ministrations. His hand began carding through Tony’s hair again and his boyfriend practically purred, wiggling a little bit closer so he could rest more comfortably against Bucky’s chest with his head tucked underneath Bucky’s chin._

_“You were falling asleep, weren’t you?”_

_“Yeah, a little,” Bucky admitted. “It’s nice, just letting my mind drift off.”_

_Tony didn’t respond, so Bucky let the warm weight on his chest and Tony’s even breathing soothe him back into the alluring state of relaxation. This time, when he stopped brushing his hand through Tony’s hair and let it rest on Tony’s back instead, the man didn’t protest._

_Bucky was on the edge of sleep again when he heard Tony’s whispered words._

_“I’m glad you feel safe enough here to let your guard down like this.”_

_“I guess that’s what home is supposed to be, right?”_

_“Yeah, I guess so.”_

_Bucky didn’t bother clarifying that it wasn’t really the setting around him that he found comforting, but rather_ Tony _who gave him this sense of peace._

_Tony would always be his home, regardless of where Bucky found himself._

***

“Barnes?”

Bucky blinked his eyes open to the sight of Tony Stark— _this world’s Tony Stark_ — standing on the other side of the table.

His past self really should’ve clarified that it was a specific Tony who was his joy and his salvation and his sense of peace. Unfortunately, his past self wasn’t aware of that one insignificant little detail that yeah, alternate universes _did_ exist.

God, maybe he really _should’ve_ killed Strange instead of just maiming the bastard a little with a chef’s knife. 

“Taking a nap, Snowflake?”

“Just waiting for you, Stark.”

_Stark_ , not _Tony_ , because Tony meant _home_ and home was hopelessly out of reach.

“Yeah, sorry about that, Avengers business, same shit, different day, you know how it is. Wrapping up debriefs took way longer than I thought and your best bud Steve-o, by the way,” Tony pointed an accusing finger, “is a pain in the ass. I totally forgot _how much_ of a pain in the ass.” 

“He’s not my _best bud_ , I told you that.”

“Yeah, I know, sorry,” Stark conceded, then pulled out one of the chairs for himself. “So everything about Steve and the others still holds true, huh? Even across the multiverse?”

“Sure does, at least through the whole Civil War mess. Steve still thinks he knows better than everyone, that he can just decide what’s best for people. The others have no respect for you, keep blaming you for everything like children, and Maximoff, she just—” Bucky growled and the Soldier stirred within him, “she’s lucky she’s not dead is all I’m gonna say.” 

Stark grimaced. “Shit, yeah, I feel bad for my counterpart, having to deal with Wanda’s mind fuckery for a second time… Unfortunately, I can’t really cart her off to jail, since she hasn’t actually attacked _me_ , but at the very least, I know to have her monitored now, to make sure she doesn’t hurt anyone else. Thanks, by the way, for tipping me off about the reactors having protective properties _and_ about her still hating my guts _and_ about the aliens that may or may not be coming in my universe.”

“Well, Strange did say sharing information wouldn’t throw the universes off-balance or anything like that, right?”

“He did, yeah, although I’m starting to trust that idiot less and less.”

Bucky shrugged. “Then it’s the least I could do. Just wish I had more information, but I wasn’t an Avenger, didn’t have access to most of it.”

“Trust me, it’s still a huge help to have a heads up,” Stark said, then planted his chin on his hand to study Bucky more comfortably. “Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers, no longer on speaking terms. Yeah, that still feels weird to say.”

Bucky graced him with an unimpressed look. “Really? You can accept the fact that I’m from a different universe, but not the fact that I’m mad at Steve?”

“Hey, I didn’t say it was rational,” Stark admitted, “but I grew up inundated with the stories of your _epic friendship_ and then, you know, just last year, Steve blew up a highway underpass and an airport, among other things…” Tony’s other hand brushed across his chest out of a deep-seated reflex and Bucky could vividly remember the jagged scar there. “He did all that for _you_.”

Strange how the guilt was the same regardless of where Bucky was. “He shouldn’t have and I’m sorry that he did. I’m sorry for what we all did, hell, what _I_ did. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Stark regarded him for one long moment before shaking his head. “You don’t have to apologize over and over, okay? Plus, isn’t it sort of fucked up how the one apology I get is from a guy who technically wasn’t even there?”

“Consider this an apology on my counterpart’s behalf then.”

“Well, if he’s half as decent as you are, I think we’ll get along just fine.” 

Bucky offered Stark a grateful smile. Small, marred by exhaustion and sorrow, but a smile nonetheless. He couldn’t help it because Tony had always been the one to make him smile and this Tony Stark possessed the same sort of kindness, the same sense of mercy, as Bucky’s Tony did. This man had offered Bucky help as well, help Bucky was never entitled to, so he supposed this one thing remained true across the universes as well - Tony Stark fixed things, simple as that.

Bucky appreciated the support and there were days where a genuine smile was easier to give in return for Stark’s generosity, but then there were also days where every word, every joke, every kind smile played games with Bucky’s head. He knew this was a different Tony— _he had known from the very beginning_ — but some parts of his mind still struggled to catch up, flooding him with endorphins at the sight of Stark’s smile, only for it all to be snatched away by cold reality.

“You know you can’t avoid him forever, right?”

“Hmm?”

“Steve, I mean. And others too.”

“I can try. Friday’s been a big help.”

“I really have,” the AI chimed in. Her voice was warmer nowadays whenever she addressed Bucky. “Mr. Barnes is currently enjoying his stay at the West Wing, to which none of the former Avengers have access to, and I ensure Mr. Barnes does not cross path with those... _scoundrels_.”

Tony let out an undignified snort. “Who taught you to hold a grudge like that, hmm? Is Friday like that in your universe too?” Tony directed the question at Bucky. “Stubborn, sassy, and a protective streak a mile wide?”

“She’s exactly like that and I love her all the more for it. She’s one of my favorites, in fact.”

“See, Boss, I told you he was very sweet.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re just charmed by his pretty boy looks, Fri,” Tony grinned, but then that delight disappeared, replaced by a grimace when Tony saw how Bucky shrunk in on himself. “Shit, sorry, I swear that wasn’t flirting or anything, I just don’t, uh— don’t have a good filter, I just say whatever stupid crap comes out of my mouth and then ramble and backpedal and make an idiot out of myself—”

“Stark, it’s okay,” Bucky decided to put the poor man out of his misery, still smiling despite himself because the rambled words were so damn _familiar_ too. “This situation isn’t easy for anyone, so please, don’t apologize for being kind and for trying to help me. It’s more than I could ever ask of you.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the least _I_ can do, so…” Stark fidgeted in his seat and Bucky wondered whether this Tony was also unaccustomed to having his efforts genuinely acknowledged. “How _are_ you holding up with this whole mess, by the way?”

Obviously trying to change the subject, but unfortunately, that question left Bucky with no good answers. His smile faded as he watched his fingers skirt across the glassy surface of the table. Cool, solid, smooth. _Real._

But apparently, so was everything else.

It had been a week since the revelation and Bucky still struggled to understand it all.

“I’m not sure… Sometimes it feels like your revelation about the universes,” he wet his lips, “hell, it feels like it just added another layer of crazy to my head. One minute, it all makes sense because, _of course_ it does. Everything I remember is too vivid, too detailed, it had to be real. But then, another minute passes and all of the sudden I panic because how do I know _this_ isn’t a dream? By the third minute, my mind just short circuits because I’m in a different _universe_ somehow, stuck in the wrong body, talking to a carbon copy of the man I love who isn’t actually him and how is any of that even possible?”

Tony shifted to lean on both of his elbows. “Yeah, I get that. I mean, I’ve had some time to warm up to the idea, the multiverse hypothesis is an actual thing in the scientific circles. Plus, I’ve lived through portals and aliens and stones with magical powers, so I guess my bar for ‘mind-boggling’ is set pretty high right now, but none of that means this is easy. This situation is unprecedented. The way the other sorcerers were talking about it back at Strange’s dojo, no one has done this before in living memory. Of course Strange, that ass, took that as a compliment, even though the spell he was trying to use shouldn’t have been able to do this in the first place—” Tony stopped and heaved a sigh. “Shit, sorry, I’m rambling again. All I’m saying is that it’s okay to need time to wrap your head around this.”

Bucky shrugged. “Does it make a lick of difference though whether I accept this or not? From everything I’ve heard so far, I might be stuck here forever.” God, this was why he refused to let himself have any hope. “So it’s all a moot point anyways. Nothing really changed.”

“It doesn’t make a difference to know that those months of your life were real?”

Bucky’s expression crumpled. “Yes? I don’t know? It should, I know it should, but sometimes I don’t even know what’s worse. Thinking it was all a dream or knowing it was real, but having no way to ever get back home.”

“Both are pretty shitty, but I think it’s better knowing the truth, isn’t it? Everything that you lived through, everything that you experienced, whatever meaning those experiences carried, it was all real.”

“Yeah, but it also means that Tony— _my Tony_ — is out there and I have no idea how he’s doing.” 

Was he looking for Bucky? Or had he given up? 

Was someone looking out for _Tony_ , taking care of him? Making sure he wasn’t blaming himself for this and running himself into the ground? Bucky spent December at the royal palace where he forced himself to ignore the dates on the calendar, but now that he knew his Tony was out there, _alone_ … Did he spend the anniversary of his parents’ death alone too? 

Maybe he wouldn’t have wanted Bucky there to begin with, but Bucky hoped, with a sharp sense of desperation, that someone was there to remind Tony that he wasn’t alone, that he was loved by so many people.

Hopefully Tony spent a happy Christmas with the kids and the rest of his found family as well.

“The two of you really were close, weren’t you?”

Bucky spared Tony one glance, not bothering to mask the hopelessness of his thoughts, before looking back down at his hand. “Yeah, we were.”

“You love him?”

A silent nod this time because Bucky wasn’t sure he could say anything past the lump in his throat. _Tony, sweetheart, I need you. I’m not sure how to find my way home without you._

“Did he love you?”

It was all too much and Bucky looked away to blink back the wetness in his eyes. “I honestly hope he didn’t. Maybe that would spare him all this fuckin’ hurt.”

“Yeah, I don’t think it works like that,” Tony countered, not unkindly. “Now, I don’t know your Tony that well— and jesus, yeah, you’re right, it _is_ weird talking about another me— but I’d like to think there are certain ‘Tony Stark’ truths that are universal. For example, we are all stubborn, arrogant bastards who like our coffee black, our suits fast, and our self-preservation instincts non-existent. We don’t half-ass anything, and when we fall for someone, we, uh— we fall _hard_.” Tony cleared his throat while his fingers tapped out a rhythm against the table. “Most importantly, when we see something impossible, you know what we do? We just go ‘nah, I can totally do that.’ Any of that sound like your Tony Stark?”

“Sounds exactly like him. Stubborn, reckless, and too damn brilliant for his own good.” 

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Barnes.” 

Tony’s charm seemed to be a universal constant too.

“Now, if he does love you, then he’s not going to stop looking for you.”

“Shouldn’t he though? You said it yourself, the odds of bringing me back are astronomical. Too many things have to go right and none of them are simple tasks. I don’t want him wasting his life on this. If I’m stuck here—” He struggled with the words, but he was stubborn too and he forced himself to say the truth. “If I’m stuck here forever, then I would want him to move on. Live his life, be happy. He _should_ move on. What we had, it wasn’t— maybe it wasn’t this great big thing. Hell, we’ve only had six months together. He can let that go.”

“Can you?”

“No, I can’t,” he admitted, to Tony and to himself.

“Then why do you think he can?”

Bucky didn’t have a good the answer. “I don’t know,” he whispered, “all I know is that I want him to be happy… but I also just want to go home… I miss him so much.”

“I’m sorry,” Stark offered. He sounded genuine, but Bucky didn’t dare look at him, not right now. “I hope the other me finds his way here soon, but I promise we’re gonna try everything on our end too. Unfortunately, I know things aren’t looking so great right now. Strange and his magic buddies are all stumped by this, saying that even if we can recreate the spell to open the portal, no one knows of a way to open a portal to _your_ universe. And by design, there are infinite number of universes, so…”

The “this is essentially impossible” was politely left off.

“We’re gonna keep working on it as much as we can,” Stark continued, “I’ll try to convince Strange to do the same since it’s his fault, maybe we’ll find someone else who knows more about this. I’ll try to keep this in my queue, but it’s just… There’s always so much going on and, uh—”

“It’s not a priority. I know.” Stark radiated guilt and even though this wasn’t his Tony, Bucky still felt compelled to reassure. “It’s okay, I understand. You have a whole world that needs protecting. I’m just one guy. A guy who doesn’t even belong here.”

“I’m really sorry, Barnes, I wish I had better news.” After a beat, Bucky heard him stand up. “But something will turn up, okay? Don’t give up hope.”

With a small smile and wave, Tony walked out of the room, leaving Bucky to his own thoughts once again.

He didn’t bother saying that he couldn’t give up something that he refused to let himself have in the first place.

***

Tony stared at the screen in front of him with bleary eyes. His latest engineering binge was drawing on its twentieth uninterrupted hour and the sand in his eyes and the fog in his brain were both signs that it was time to call it a night.

With a flick of the wrist, all the holograms in front of him disappeared. Well, all but one. 

The latest information from Strange was compiled on the remaining scree and to Tony’s dismay, despite another two weeks that came and went, they essentially had nothing.

He wanted to blame it on Strange and his inability to give a damn about anyone but himself, but even Tony had to admit that solving the multiverse equation was something that was beyond even their combined intellect (not to mention Wong and the other mages, Vision, and even a few of T’Challa’s most brilliant physicists). 

Solving this wasn’t a simple matter of gathering enough human intelligence and ingenuity in the same room. This was… _otherworldly_ , even by their standards. He briefly thought about contacting Thor, hoping the god had some magical acquaintances other than his crazy brother, maybe some sort of being gifted with a lifespan far greater than that of humanity, someone who had lived long enough to understand the workings of the multiverse.

Unfortunately, Thor hadn’t been back to Earth in years and no one had a reliable way of contacting the Thunder God.

Their options were dwindling down to nothing and Tony found himself genuinely remorseful and also a little guilty.

The remorse stemmed from his inability to help, while the guilt would sneak up on him on those unpredictable occasions when Barnes would give him a rare smile or look at him with those unfailingly earnest blue eyes and make Tony think “Would it really be so bad if he stayed here, with me?”

Yeah, they had their history, but Tony accepted long ago that his parents were killed by _Hydra_ , not Barnes, and anything else after that… well, he could just blame the “Civil War” bullshit on Steve or Ross and be done with it. 

Barnes, on the other hand, was nothing like Tony anticipated and over the course of the past month, he found himself warming up to the man, more so than he ever expected to. Even with the permanent rain cloud over his head, Barnes was always genuine and open with him, he never shied away from gratitude and kind words. There weren’t many people out there who treated Tony with this sort of warmth and Tony knew it was having an effect on him. In rare moments of personal self-reflection, he could admit that falling for Barnes was less impossible than he initially thought. 

But in the end, he always reminded himself that the tempting _warmth_ , the kindness and care, none of it belonged to him. 

This Barnes would never reciprocate nor did Tony want him to. The way Barnes spoke about the other Tony, the amount of affection there, the devotion, the _love_ …

Well, Tony could never compete with himself, could he?

Unfortunately, despite all of that, Barnes may have been right all along to take the most pessimistic approach possible. Every part of Tony rebelled against the admission, but this little situation was turning out to be the one problem Tony couldn’t fix.

_Figures, stumped by the multiverse._

He heaved a sigh and after deciding that a track all the way up to his quarters was too much of a hassle, he dragged himself over to the couch and promptly collapsed on the well-worn cushions.

As he got himself more comfortable, his mind inevitably drifted back to Barnes, as it did so often nowadays, and he mulled over the ways he could help Barnes make the best of this shitty situation. Shuri’s solution for the triggers and the prep for the arm were currently put on hold, but with the likelihood that Barnes was here for the long haul increasing with each day, it was time to revisit both and give the man some semblance of a decent life here. 

If Tony wheedled enough, Shuri might even let him be involved in the installation of the arm and after Barnes was cleared and put back together, Tony could definitely help with the maintenance too. It’d also give him an excuse to stay in touch, since it was likely Barnes would want to find a place away from the Compound—

“Boss?”

“Fri, my girl,” he mumbled into the pillow, “unless the world is on fire, please let daddy sleep, hmm?”

“The world isn’t on fire, no, but there _is_ a portal currently forming in Hangar Bay 7 that matches the readings from Project Houdini.”

Tony shot straight up, completely awake.

“Run that by me one more time?”

***

Tony flew the Iron Man suit through the empty underground tunnels that led him straight to the hangar bay and he arrived to the sight of the aforementioned portal currently hovering a foot or two over the concrete floor. The portal wasn’t huge, a perfect circle about eight to nine feet in diameter, but the energy readings Friday was picking up were off the charts, straining even her impressive capabilities.

Tony was _giddy_.

He landed right next to Rhodey, with Viz and Captain Marvel rounding out their welcoming committee. The area was cleared out and everyone else in the Compound was on red alert to either join the fight or evacuate if the signal was given, but Tony hoped the caution was unnecessary. 

“Iron Man, is this what I think it is?” Rhodey asked over comms, being one of the few who knew about Barnes’ situation (hard to keep anything from Honey Bear).

“How good is the data match, Fri?”

“88% and climbing, Boss.”

Tony’s stomach fluttered with nerves and he wasn’t certain whether he needed to get Barnes here already.

_No, I need to be sure. The worst I can do is give him false hope._

One minute passed, then another, with all of them standing around with their weapons pointed in the portal. The third minute bled into awkward and Tony was about to do something reckless like shoot the portal with a repulsor just to see what would happen, but then, as if the damn thing had read Tony’s mind, the portal rippled and lit up in a blinding rainbow of colors. Then, when the light show finally died down, shadowy figures appeared in brightly-lit circle.

“Ready your weapons,” War Machine ordered, “If anyone looks remotely hostile, shoot first, ask questions later and— what the hell?”

An Iron Man suit stepped out of the rippling portal first— _a gorgeous Iron Man suit, Tony was already in love_ — and made a graceful landing on the concrete floor.

That sight alone made Tony throw all the caution to the wind. His helmet retracted back into the armor, exposing his bright grin to the world.

A moment later, Strange appeared as well, jumping out of the portal with that Cloak of his fluttering behind him. Then the other Barnes follow— _holy shit, that arm was gorgeous too!_ — and then—

“Does Loki count as hostile?” Carol asked, “Because I wouldn’t mind shooting _him_ in the face.”

“No, wait,” Tony said, “let’s not start shooting at our guests just yet. I bet that crazy drama queen is the one who figured out the whole portals thing in the first place!”

Figured, it really _did_ take a Norse god to solve the equation.

But Tony stopped paying attention to anything else because the other Iron Man suit began to effortlessly fold in on itself and a carbon copy of Tony, clad in the under-armor, stepped out with his hands up.

“Would it be super cliche if I said ‘we come in peace’?”

“Son of a gun, you actually figured it out,” Tony exclaimed and walked right over, ignoring Rhodey’s sputtered protests. “I should have never doubted our awesomeness.”

“Sounds like you’ve been expecting us,” the other Tony regarded him with a curious look. “Does that mean we can skip the awkward introductions, _I’m you, but from another universe_ , yada, yada?”

“Hell yeah, figured all that out myself—”

“I still wouldn’t mind knowing why _Loki_ is here,” Rhodey interrupted, sounding irritated. True to form, Loki waved, looking as smug as ever, earning himself a matching set of glares from both Strange and Barnes.

The other Tony looked over at War Machine and flashed him a toothy grin.

“Honey Bear, you gotta trust me on this! The Norse Menace is actually helpful for once!” Rhodey just grumbled something barely audible and Tony’s twin frowned and glanced back at Tony. “We _are_ best friends with Rhodey in this universe, aren’t we?”

“Of course we are,” Tony assured the man and then clasped him around the shoulders, practically vibrating where he stood. This was, by far, the most bizarre and the most _awesome_ thing he’d ever been a part of. “But ignore the busy bodies behind me and you know what, ignore me too. Because while I’d love nothing more than to geek out over the fact that there’s two of us now, I’m guessing you have something more urgent to attend to?”

“It’s like you read my mind,” his doppelgänger gave him a familiar wink, “because yeah, I am here for a reason. I’m here to get my boyfriend back.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick housekeeping: there's a small chance the next update might be late, so if I don't post a chapter on Thursday, no need to worry, I'll update either Friday or Saturday.
> 
> With that said, enjoy!

“Mr. Barnes?” 

For once, Bucky’s mind wasn’t drifting through the echos of yet another memory. The entire Compound was on red alert— _potential intruders, they were told a few minutes ago_ — but no additional information was offered yet, at least not to him. While Bucky logically knew an attack was never good news and would put innocent civilians here at risk, the Soldier still hoped there would be a fight and with the mental equivalent of pacing inside Bucky’s head, that dark part of him remained on guard, waiting for his opportunity to shed blood and let the violence be his distraction. 

So there was only a flash of disappointment on his part, followed by more prominent relief, that Friday didn’t sound distressed. Bucky glanced at the corner where the camera was carefully hidden.

“Yes, ma’am? Any news on our intruders?”

“Boss requests your presence in Hangar Bay 7 immediately.”

Bucky frowned in confusion, but he was already on his feet. “So there _is_ a fight? Do they need help?”

“There is no fight, no. Rather it’s, uh…” Friday paused and her hesitation forced Bucky’s mental alarms to go into overdrive.

“Friday, what’s going on?”

“It’s a portal, Mr. Barnes.”

He stilled, hand frozen halfway to picking up his gun.

_No, no, it can’t be. Just another dream._

_I need to wake up._

“There’s a second Boss here now. He’s asking for you.”

Bucky muffled a broken inhale into his hand as he shook his head in denial. This had to be another delusion, _it had to be_. Another dream, another way for his broken mind to lie to him, to make him believe that something like this were possible—

“Mr. Barnes, he’s waiting.”

Bucky couldn’t move an inch— couldn’t _breathe_ — but the Soldier could and sheer instinct, basic _need_ took over as Bucky raced to the door and then broke out into a full-out run once he was out in the hallway. Instinct and familiarity guided his body through the Compound while his mind ignored everything else around him and just clung to Friday’s words.

_He’s asking for you._

The sprint across the Compound grounds was the longest two minutes of his life and he was honest-to-god out of breath for a few beats before his body adjusted to the strain. He stopped in front of the heavy steel doors and was about to push them open, but a familiar terror stopped him in his tracks.

It felt eerily like opening the door to that conference room, only to be met with Stark’s indifferent gaze. It was better now, a tentative friendship forming between them, but that indifference tore something apart inside Bucky that hadn’t had a chance to heal.

_Not his Tony_ , his heart cried out last time, and Bucky was so damn afraid that he would face the same thing now. If there were infinite universes, that meant that there were other Tonys out there, other carbon copies of the man he loved who would never look at him the way _his_ Tony did—

“Mr. Barnes, it’s safe, you may proceed through the doors.”

Bucky choked back a crazed laugh because danger had never stopped him before. Heartbreak though…

He pushed the doors open and stepped inside.

The sight before him was one of a kind and at any other time, he would’ve taken in every angle, every detail, but no part of him paid attention, not to the shimmering portal nor the collection of Avengers and allies gathered around it. No, everything else blurred until only one man remained in crystal clear focus.

Tony turned his head at the sound of doors scraping against the concrete and Bucky expected that same cold disregard, he expected to see _nothing_ in Tony’s eyes—

Tony smiled. 

He _smiled_ , a wide, toothy grin, his eyes lit up with unmistakable _joy_ , and he dashed toward Bucky, whose own unsteady legs barely held him up as he stumbled forward. He collapsed to his knees after a few steps just as Tony got to him, catching him around the shoulders and getting pulled down to the floor along with him.

“Easy, sweetheart, easy, I got you.”

A shudder ran through him and then he let out a wounded, desperate noise as familiar hands clutched at his shoulder, brushed his long hair out of the way, then cradled his face. Bucky sucked in a ragged breath, words escaping him, as fear, disbelief, and _hope_ warred inside him while his mind struggled to make sense of what it was he was seeing. The man in front of him, the way those brown eyes crinkled at the corners, the small scar marring the creased brow, the touch of gray at the temples, the curve of those lips when they smiled— 

But his mind deceived him with details before, hadn’t it? 

_I can’t fall again._

“It can’t be, it’s not—”

For one fleeting moment, Tony’s expression twisted in pain before the smile returned. “I’m right here, James,” he whispered the words, the _name_ that belonged to Tony now and no one else, “everything’s going to be okay now. I’m so sorry it took me so long to find you, but I’m right here.”

Bucky raised his trembling hand to Tony’s cheek and Tony didn’t hesitate to press it against this skin before nuzzling and kissing the palm. 

“You feel that? _Real._ Everything’s real. You don’t have to doubt this, honey.”

Another kiss to the inside of Bucky’s wrist, lips warm and the stubble scratchy against the sensitive skin and then Tony let go, gripping Bucky’s shoulder again, which left Bucky’s hand free to map out a path he knew by heart. The apple of Tony’s cheek, the heavy shadows underneath his eyes, the sharp jaw dusted with scruff, then the temple, where Bucky tucked away a few unruly curls, a little longer than he remembered, but just as soft. The skin, warm and marked by tiny imperfections left behind by time and struggle. 

_Real._

Just like Tony had said.

“Tony,” his voice broke on a sob, “oh god, Tony, it’s you—” 

And then he was crying, _again_ , sniffling like a damn child, but it didn’t matter, none of it mattered—

“Everything’s alright, sweetheart, everything’s going to be just fine. I’m right here,” Tony kept murmuring, hands stroking everywhere they could reach, Bucky’s face, his hair, his shoulders, firm sweeps up and down his back. 

Bucky’s own hand, still shaking like a leaf, traced the bow of Tony’s bottom lip now, then back up to his temple, down his neck and over his clothed shoulder. 

“What if— no, I can’t— what if I’m dreaming again?”

“You’re not, I swear you’re not.” Tony took Bucky’s hand into both of his own and pressed kisses all along the knuckles. “You were never dreaming, baby. It was all real. You came to live with me, we fought and grieved and we healed together, and we fell stupidly in love. We had our first kiss down in Medical, me with my three day insomnia streak and you with your busted hand, and it was the best damn kiss of my life. You remember all that?”

Bucky nodded as tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Real, all real. Every late night at the lab, every godawful BARF sessions, every fight, every kiss, every morning where I got to wake up next to you. I’m sorry I lost you, I’m sorry I let this happen, but I’m here now and I’m not letting you go.” 

And then Bucky was being pulled close, strong arms that have held the broken parts of him together before, always when he needed it most, pressing him against Tony now, wrapping tightly around him, finding their way into his hair and brushing it down, over and over.

Words of love and devotion and hope spilling into his ear, promises and reassurances and apologies. Tony’s cheek pressed against his and the tell-tale wetness of tears, but not just his own, _Tony’s_ tears—

Every wall that Bucky had so painstakingly built around his heart just so he could keep _living_ came crashing down and he muffled the anguished sobs he could no longer control into Tony’s shoulder as the tidal wave of emotions crashed over him. His arm wrapped around Tony’s waist, clung to the back of his shirt like a lifeline, and Bucky only wished he had both of his arms because he needed to press Tony even closer to him, until there was no space left between them, so they could stay like this forever and so Bucky would never, _never_ have to let him go again.

Tony was real. He was _real_ and despite the infinite odds, he was _here_. 

_His Tony was here and Bucky was finally home again._

Time ceased to exist and Bucky had no way of knowing how long they stayed like that, wrapped around each other as they knelt on the cold floor. Later, some part of Bucky’s brain would acknowledge that they had a full audience witnessing his breakdown, but the need to be embarrassed didn’t even register, not when the only thing that mattered in the whole damn world was _Tony_ , warm and solid and _real_ against him, carding one hand through Bucky’s hair while the other rubbed up and down Bucky’s back. Holding him as Bucky wept, soothing him as Bucky let go of the grief that never should’ve been his to begin with. 

The whispered words never stopped, filtering through the hopelessness and the fear, finding their way into every crevice of Bucky’s mind where darkness had taken hold, and it was the affection, the _love_ imbued within those words that had Bucky clinging harder, had him breathing in just a little bit deeper on every inhale, Tony’s familiar sweet scent keeping him grounded. Every part of him— _Bucky, the Soldier, there was no distinction that mattered right now_ — existed just for this one precious moment. He committed every detail, every sensation to memory so he could use it as evidence to prove to himself that this was real, over and over and over, as many times as he had to.

Time didn’t stop though, not really, and when his body finally stopped trembling and his haggard sobs subsided into weak sniffles, Bucky pulled away so he could actually see Tony. 

Red-rimmed eyes looked back at him, filled with so much _love_ that it was impossible to look away, to _doubt_ its veracity, and Bucky’s hand was back to brushing Tony’s cheeks, muscle memory taking over as he wiped away the man’s tears.

The dark shadows under Tony’s eyes, the sharper angles of his face, they were all signs of bone-deep exhaustion, but the smile on Tony’s face gave none of that away. Genuine, open smile that showed a flash of white teeth, that made Bucky’s heart beat again, had the Soldier singing praises, had them both breathing again, _living_ again.

“ _Solnishko moyo_ …”

Tony bit his lip and struggled to force back his own watery sniffle. “Oh god, James, honey, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

“You really are here, aren’t you?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, I really am. So fucking sorry it took so long, I should’ve tried harder, should’ve found you sooner—”

“Don’t,” Bucky shushed him, pressing closer again until their foreheads touched, “don’t apologize, please. Not your fault, never your fault, sweetheart.” 

Tony found him, he _saved_ him. There was nothing to apologize for. 

“You found me. You— you kept looking for me until you found me,” he murmured, unable— _unwilling_ — to keep the awe out of his voice.

“Of course I did. I promised I’d always be there to catch you, didn’t I?” Tony whispered and _god_ , their lips were so close now, close enough that he could feel the warm breath of Tony’s words.

Bucky didn’t answer the question, knowing it wasn’t necessary— _Tony being here was answer enough_ — and besides, there was something else he wanted more, he _needed_ to have Tony’s lips on his.

But when Bucky moved closed, Tony pulled away with a quiet “Hold on, honey,” and Bucky would’ve taken the rejection far harder, but Tony was still smiling and his hands never stopped touching Bucky wherever they could reach. 

“Please, Tony, I need this, I need to know that this is real,” he begged, would’ve continued to beg for as long as he had to, but Tony only shook his head, the exhaustion evident now more than ever.

“There’s nothing I want more, trust me, but this, uh— this isn’t your body technically and I don’t want to make either of you uncomfortable and—”

“Oh for god’s sake, Stark, just kiss him already, I won’t hold it against ya.”

Bucky blinked, his already addled brain struggling to process the fact that it was his _own_ voice.

He glanced over Tony’s shoulder and just like that, the rest of the world around them came rushing back. The portal was gone now, but Stark and Rhodes were still there, clad in their battle armor, along with the woman who called herself Captain Marvel. Strange was here too— _Tony’s Strange?_ — then Loki next to him, who wiggled his fingers in a greeting. Bucky’s eye didn’t linger on the smirking god for very long though because next to Loki was an even more baffling sight - his doppelgänger, standing there in full combat gear that reminded Bucky of his Howling Commandos outfit. 

His own face, clean shaven and far less worn down by grief scrutinized him right back with an expectant raise of his eyebrow.

“How do we, uh—” Bucky stumbled over the words needed for the bizarre question he was about to ask, “how do we switch back?” 

“Loki and Strange will perform a spell, but it’ll take a little time, maybe a few hours,” Tony explained, expression still far too apologetic.

Bucky was torn, unsure whether he wanted to stay here clinging to Tony forever or take the final step needed to put himself back together, but it only took a second to realize he still wanted that _kiss_ more than anything else in the world, so he met his twin’s eyes again.

“You sure it’s okay?” 

The other man smirked. “Just give him a smooch already.”

That was the only permission Bucky needed to shift his attention back to Tony, to let the rest of the world fall away again until all that remained was the man next to him. Tony’s eyes never strayed from Bucky’s, his hands never stopped with their exploratory caresses, and Bucky wondered whether the touch served as _Tony’s_ own proof that Bucky was real too.

“I think I’ve waited long enough, honey,” Bucky murmured, cradling Tony’s face, drowning in the affection reflected in Tony’s eyes, one that matched up perfectly against the swell of love in his own chest, everything that Bucky had longed for, everything he thought he’d lost. “Kiss me, _solnishko_?”

He expected a quip, some hint of Tony’s usual sass, but Tony didn’t bother with words, not this time. Instead, he pressed closer, paused for just one moment as he nuzzled his nose against Bucky’s, and then— _after an eternity of grief and pain and loss_ — Tony’s lips finally meet his own. 

The world stilled and Bucky was taken back to the memory of their first kiss. A simple, cautious press of their lips at first, braving the stormy waters for the very first time. Then, the kiss deepened, just enough for Bucky to taste a hint of coffee and something sweeter, something uniquely _Tony_ , and he may have let out a breathless whimper at the sensation, he wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but Tony. Neither one of them pushed for more, not even the Soldier who would have demanded heat and passion and submission at any other time, but not here, not now. Even he needed the quiet sense of peace that came with this moment. Later, they could have more, would _take_ more from each other when everything was finally put back to rights— _and if there wasn’t going to be a later, if this_ was _nothing but another dream, Bucky didn’t care anymore, he’d die happy for having kissed Tony one last time_ — but for now, they both savored the unhurried pace, the push and pull of a love they crossed universes to reclaim.

One real, tangible, _perfect_ moment.

Tony pulled away with a quiet _pop_ of their lips, panting short little breaths as he kept their foreheads pressed, refusing to pull away. Bucky’s own hand was buried in Tony’s hair now and he nuzzled at the stubbled cheek, savoring the closeness.

His savior, his salvation, his home.

_His Tony._


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire chapter is just unrepentant fluff, interrupted only by the boys unable to keep their hands off each other (flowery smut alert! should be easy enough to skip if you're not into it). Hope this makes up for all the angst (and for me missing an update)!

_“The universe— every universe— desires balance above all else and if given the chance, it will always correct the error forced upon it by an outside force. Currently, we have two souls out of place. Allow them to connect and they will find their way back to their rightful place. Strange and I will simply facilitate that process.”_

***

“You with me, honey?”

The sensation of his own lips pulling into a smile shouldn’t have been as incredible as it was and it didn’t fully register, not until that moment, but Bucky had spent the last three months truly living a half life. 

“Yeah, m’okay,” he murmured back. Still focused on taking deep breaths as his broken pieces continued to fall back into place, Bucky kept his eyes closed and just reached blindly for Tony, who didn’t hesitate to come closer, onto his knees so he could slot himself between Bucky’s legs. Tony’s hands found Bucky’s right hand, cradling it to Tony’s chest and Bucky used that physical connection as an anchor, something to keep him steady as his body and mind slotted back together. 

The Soldier’s presence strengthened with each passing second as well, heady and heated and whole, back in his rightful place in Bucky’s head.

_So glad to finally breathe again._

_Welcome back to you too. Just don’t cause too much trouble, would you?_

_I’ve been muzzled for three months. I deserve some trouble._

_I know._

Another breath and Bucky’s eyes fluttered open, because he needed to _see_ Tony now, affirm the reality of his presence once again. The man gave him a reassuring smile before kissing his knuckles. 

The touch of his lips felt like coming home.

A deep, steady inhale, then another. When the rest of the world finally came back into focus, Bucky reluctantly tore his eyes away from Tony, just long enough to give the room a cursory once-over. Loki and Strange stepped away to the side, their roles in the switch fulfilled. The events of the day took their toll on the two, as they looked to be on the wrong side of exhausted now, which meant the portal home wouldn’t be ready for another few days. 

Stark was hovering awkwardly next to Barnes while the super soldier remained in the other chair— _their hands were no longer linked, Bucky belatedly realized_ — where the man was hunched in on himself, his right hand clutching at the meat of his thigh. 

Likely struggling through the same disorienting sensations that had Bucky himself still clinging to Tony.

“Everything alright with you?” Bucky called out and watched as the man took a deep, deliberate breath and then sat up. Barnes examined the room as well, eyes passing over every occupant, and then, seemingly satisfied with what he saw, he smiled at Bucky.

“Feeling fine, yeah,” he replied, then wiggled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “Think I’m done with this magical portals crap though. Can’t we just go back to _punching_ the bad guys in the mouth instead?”

“I’ll be honest, that sounds amazing,” Bucky huffed an amused breath, heartened by the sight of his counterpart’s smile. Bucky knew it couldn’t have been easy, to be thrust back into all those memories, unhealed and raw and so damn painful, to lose the arm all over again, but they were made of tougher stuff than that. He had every faith that his counterpart would get through this in one piece.

Satisfied that the other Barnes was doing well, Bucky didn’t spare anyone else any more of his time. Call him selfish (or rude), but he _lost_ Tony, had been separated from the love of his life for _three month_ in the most devastating way possible. Everyone else would just have to wait, and if they had problems, they’d have to deal with them on their own, like damn adults.

Bucky’s only priority was _Tony_.

His metal hand obeyed him effortlessly— _Bucky would marvel later, yet again, at the brilliance of Tony’s tech_ — and he used it to brush his fingers against Tony’s temple. Tony let out a soft little sigh, nuzzling Bucky’s palm, giving him that coy look from behind his lashes that had the Soldier pushing his way to the surface, bleeding into Bucky’s veins.

He gave the Soldier enough control to satisfy them both and the heat in his blood had him pulling Tony in for a searing kiss. _This_ was even more incredible, more right than anything Bucky had ever experienced. He buried his hand into Tony’s hair for leverage, kissed him harder, uncaring that they had an audience. He prodded with his tongue and Tony’s lips opened up for him without resistance, but it was Tony who pulled away first, flushed and breathless and irresistible.

To give the man the incentive he needed, Bucky leaned in to whisper in Tony’s ear, “I need you, darlin’. Need you inside me. Prove to me that it’s all real, help me remember how good you feel, _lyubov’ moya_ , how fuckin’ _perfect_ you are when you’re buried deep inside me.”

Tony tried to shush him, clearly embarrassed, but the reprimands came out more as breathless laughter, and Bucky reveled in the way those brown eyes darkened with need, the way Tony’s skin flushed with unmistakable heat. 

“Oh, for god’s sake, get a room, you two, and I mean that _literally_ ,” Strange broke the spell and Bucky gave Tony a little bit of space while he glanced over his shoulder at the two mages.

“For _my_ sake, Strange, why must you ruin this lovely show? They were just getting to the good part,” Loki complained. Between the arms crossed over his chest and the pouting expression, he was the perfect picture of a spoiled prince.

The Soldier growled and Bucky’s flesh hand twitched where it was settled on Tony’s waist. After all of this was said and done, he’d need to have a _talk_ with Loki about the god’s whole… _possessiveness_ schtick, particularly when it came to _Bucky’s_ clever Tony Stark. 

“No, I’m with Strange on this one. It’s too weird, even for me,” Stark piped up and then began to shoo them away. “Come on, Barnes, you still have a room here, so go, you two, go and uh— _talk_ or whatever.”

Hmm, having Tony babble his name over and over in ecstasy, that counted as _talking_ , didn’t it?

“Well, if you insist,” Bucky offered them all a wide grin, delighted that he could feel like this, whole and alive and _happy_. 

He made Tony his sole focus again as he stroked the stubbled cheek, then leaned in to bump his nose against Tony’s.

“I suppose _solnishko i ya_ , we do have so much… _talking_ to catch up on. Don’t we, my gorgeous mechanic?”

He didn’t give Tony the chance to respond, just picked him up into his arms, thoroughly enjoying the adorable little noise Tony let out. It was followed by grumbled demands to be put down, but Tony’s arms were wrapped tightly around Bucky’s neck, so Bucky didn’t bother letting go. 

Stark and Barnes both whistled, Loki just kept smirking at them like a loon, and even Strange’s usual annoyance was veering off into indulgence, so with one last look and a proud grin in the group’s direction, Bucky turned around and carried his boyfriend out of the room, off to Bucky’s soon to be former quarters. 

***

They both had a hard time maintaining propriety as Bucky stumbled down the quiet halls of the West Wing with Tony in his arms, too distracted by Tony’s lips to walk a straight line, but by the time they made it inside the room, they at least managed to agree that a shared shower was the first thing they both wanted. 

He carried Tony into the spacious bathroom and finally let him down, but Tony didn’t go far, still kissing him, then laughing between kisses as they tried to take each other’s clothes off, their efforts mostly failing to resemble any sort of grace or coordination.

They were plenty effective though and soon Bucky was shimmying out of his own jeans while reaching for Tony’s belt, pulling the thing out of the belt loops and undoing the zipper, all the while Tony was too busy worrying a bruise into Bucky’s neck to be of any help.

Finally, there were no more clothes to get in the way and they shared another heated kiss as they stumbled over into the shower, determined not to let the movement separate them.

They relented once they were actually underneath the hot water, mostly so they could focus on doing a bit of the actual cleaning. Plus, Bucky wanted to have his wits about him, however difficult the task with the tantalizing sight in front of him, because showers were always one careless move away from disaster given Tony’s issues with water. Tony was usually fine, as long as he kept his face away from the shower stream, but ever since Tony confined in him about the hell those monsters put him through, Bucky had promised himself he would always keep an eye on Tony to ensure there were no signs of discomfort or panic.

Tony seemed perfectly at ease though and he was the one who prodded and pushed until Bucky stood underneath the shower head, the water cascading over his hair, over his shoulders, his back, and then rest of him, the powerful streams massaging away the last traces of the aches caused by the switch.

With a dollop of shampoo in his hand, Tony began massaging the soapy liquid into Bucky’s hair, prompting an unashamed moan out of Bucky because those clever hands would be the death of him, he just knew it.

Once Tony was satisfied with his efforts (and Bucky was barely able to stand upright), Bucky let the water run over him again, washing away the lather while Tony made himself busy with scrubbing the rest of Bucky’s body with a soft sponge full of some other sweet-smelling soap.

Tony focused on his shoulders first, touches turning almost reverent as the sponge skirted over Bucky’s scars. Then his arms, his chest, the planes of his stomach.

The pleasant sensation of being taken care of like this, of being treasured and loved, was intoxicating and distracting, which was why it took Bucky a second too long to open his eyes and realize that Tony was on his knees in front of him.

Tony looked up at him, eyes wicked and pupils blown underneath those long lashes, a self-satisfied smirk gracing his lips. He winked then, drawled a shameless “Why, hello, gorgeous,” and then his mouth was on Bucky and Bucky had to brace one hand against the wall because now he was absolutely _certain_ his legs would just give out from under him.

His other hand found its way into Tony’s damp hair and Bucky didn’t bother keeping silent, letting Tony know exactly how fucking good his mouth felt, how much he missed him, how perfect he was. His metal hand nearly dug itself into the tiled wall as the sudden force of his pleasure punched the breath out of him and it was all over embarrassingly quickly, but Tony didn’t seem to mind, not in the slightest, still smiling that same gorgeous smile as he stood back up and dragged Bucky into a filthy, demanding kiss.

Their shower took far longer than any shower had any right to, but Bucky couldn’t possibly let them leave until he returned the favor, enthusiastically and shamelessly, until he dirtied Tony up too, until he reduced Tony to a babbling mess of endearments and pleading with nothing more than the heat of his mouth.

And once Tony was satisfied and boneless, Bucky took his own sweet time running a soapy sponge over his lover’s body to clean him right up, tracing every familiar scar, every muscle and curve, every inch of him, until every perfect detail was committed to memory.

***

They found themselves in bed after the shower, squeaky clean, perfectly warm, and wearing pajamas Bucky acquired during his stay here. Seeing Tony drowning in one of his shirts had Bucky furiously scribbling down a mental note to have Tony wear his clothes _all the time_ once they were back home because it was a damn gorgeous sight that had the Soldier’s possessiveness going into overdrive.

With their shared lust sated for the moment though, the heat gave way to something softer, and they found simple pleasure in staying close, wrapped around each other, sharing slow, undemanding kisses. Between the tender touches, they began to fill the silence with words, finally sharing the hardships they faced over the past three months.

“So you really thought everything that happened with us was a dream?” Tony asked from his spot curled up against Bucky’s chest. The first notes of guilt were creeping into Tony’s voice, Bucky could already hear them, and he hated that this sweet moment was about to be ruined by the discussion.

Unfortunately, they both went through hell and pretending it didn’t happen wouldn’t do either one of them any favors. 

He tightened his hold on Tony’s waist, hand resting just below Tony’s ribs so he could savor the warmth of Tony’s skin against his palm. “I crossed everything else off the list, so it was the only rational thing I was left with. The whole… _multiverse_ thing, it didn’t even enter my head. I knew there were other dimensions, I remember Strange trying to explain that, but actual _universes_ , with nearly identical versions of ourselves, living out nearly identical lives… I had no idea that was even a possibility.”

Tony twisted a little in the circle of Bucky’s arms so he could more effectively tuck himself against Bucky, soft wisps of sweet-smelling, damp hair pressing against Bucky’s chin.

“I had no idea either, to be perfectly honest,” Tony confessed quietly. He began tracing lazy lines over the metal arm, following the thin grooves, and the ability to feel that touch— hell, to just have his own arm back, it reminded Bucky of the first few days after the surgery when everything was still novel and breathtaking and a little bit overwhelming.

“We lead some pretty crazy lives, huh?” Bucky remarked, but his attempt at levity fell flat.

“No kidding…” Tony sounded bitter too. “I’m just so fucking happy I reached out to Stephen when I did, and even then, all of this took too damn long. God, James, I’m so sorry, I can’t imagine what this must’ve been like for you.”

“It’s okay, I was fine,” Bucky lied, more out of the need to erase the distress in his lover’s voice, but he regretted it almost immediately because the careful brushes of Tony’s hand stopped and the man raised himself up on his arms to give Bucky a steely glare, which was mostly ruined by that damn guilt that Bucky could see marring Tony’s features.

“Don’t do that,” Tony pleaded, trying for stern, but ending up with something more desperate, “please, don’t deflect. I’m not going to think any less of you if you _weren’t_ fine. You know that, right?” 

Memories of the first few months were still vivid, that terrible sense of loss as Bucky realized he was completely lonely still such a fresh, familiar ache in his chest, but he pushed back against that pain, no longer relevant, no longer _needed_. He caressed Tony’s cheek with his metal hand to prove to himself again that Tony was here, alive and real and very much not a figment of his broken mind.

“I wasn’t fine,” he finally admitted, although he couldn’t quite meet Tony’s eyes, choosing instead to study how the silver of the vibranium contrasted so beautifully against Tony’s skin. “I thought I lost everything, lost _you_ , and I just fell apart. I coped _so badly_ , even though I knew the things I was doing weren’t helpful. One day, I’d be numb, the next, I’d want to rip the whole world apart just to distract myself from the grief. I took it out on Steve and the others, maybe even on myself. I stopped eating anything but the bare minimum, I just stopped… _caring_. Every time I slept, I’d see memories of you, crystal clear like a damn film.”

“Super soldier memory…”

“Hell of a curse, isn’t it?” He traced a little scar, just above Tony’s ear and half of it hidden by the brown locks. “I thought I was going crazy, thought that my mind was breaking down again. I, uh— I didn’t know what to do. I was so damn lost without you, sweetheart…”

“I’m so sorry, James,” Tony whispered, turning his face into Bucky’s palm. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

“S’not your fault.”

“Yes, it is,” Tony didn’t back down, “I keep letting down every person I love. Bad shit keeps happening to all of you and I just stand there, so fuckin’ _useless_ —”

Bucky kissed him, unable to think of any other way to stop Tony’s self-recriminations. Tony didn’t fight him, leaning into the kiss, but he was still tense and Bucky couldn’t help but think back to that awful vision the witch’s magic conjured up.

Maximoff forced it into Tony’s head, breathed life and terror into it, but it was still based on Tony’s own greatest fear, the fear that he would somehow— _inevitably_ — fail to protect the people he loved

“You have to stop blaming yourself for this, honey,” Bucky said when he broke the kiss. His hand was gentle but firm against the crown of Tony’s head, keeping the man close. “You are one of the most incredible people I have ever met, one of the strongest and most resilient. You’re kind and brave and so damn _brilliant_ that you take my breath away.” He shushed Tony when the man tried to argue. “You’re amazing, sweetheart, but you are _not_ God. You’re not even _a_ god, you’re a man, you’re human, and there are some thing that will always be outside your control, some of which _will_ go wrong, but none of that means you failed.”

The hand buried in Tony’s hair traced a path down, over the curve of Tony’s spine before settling on his lower back. 

“What if it were you instead of me, hmm? What if the universes decided to swap two Tony Starks instead of their Winter Soldiers? Would you blame me for losing you?”

“No, of course not,” Tony replied almost immediately, then grimaced, obviously getting Bucky’s point. “S’not the same though,” he mumbled and turned away, but Bucky wouldn’t have that, so he sat up straighter and cradled Tony’s face with both hands, using gentle pressure to wordlessly ask Tony to look at him.

“You _saved_ me, Tony,” he affirmed before pressing another brief kiss to Tony’s lips, “you did the impossible and you found me, so don’t, please don’t take on this guilt as your own. I want our lives back, our _happiness_ , and I don’t want you to torture yourself over this. There’s nothing to be sorry for, nothing to forgive. Whatever I suffered here, it pales in comparison to what I have with you.”

Tony swallowed hard and looked down, blinking away the tell-tale signs of wetness in his eyes.

“When did you, uh—” Tony’s voice was hoarse, “when you did get so good with words, hmm? Putting me to shame over here.”

Bucky smiled. “I have my moments.”

Tony’s hands came up to intertwine their fingers together, then pressed their linked hands to his lips. The man took a few deep breaths, then, when his exhales were steady, he finally graced Bucky with a smile, still strained around the edges, but genuine.

“Well, everything’s going to be just fine from here on out, okay? All the important pieces of you are back in the right place, the portal will be ready in a few days, we’ll go back home, and I’ll make sure nothing like this ever happens again. I know this was awful, but I’ll take care of you, James. Whatever I need to do, I’ll give you anything you need.”

God, this was why Tony was his rock, his _anchor_ that steadied him when their lives turned to chaos. Bucky equal parts envied and treasured this sort of unwavering strength that Tony seemed to have in spades.

The rest of the guilt seemed to have dissipated as Tony’s gaze turned more determined. He pressed another kiss to the inside of Bucky’s wrist, then a kitten lick over the cool metal and just like that, the energy between them turned heated again.

“And I think I should start holding myself to that promise right about now,” Tony said, his voice dropping into that seductive tone that had Bucky’s blood rushing south. “I think the Soldier made me a promise, didn’t he?” 

Tony crawled over and settled right into Bucky’s lap, his favorite place in the world if how often Tony ended up here were any indication. A hand trailed down Bucky’s chest. “You’re gonna let me take care of you, James?”

All Bucky could do was nod, too distracted by Tony’s hands on him, needing to get his _own_ hands on Tony.

Neither one of them seemed to have any words left, so they let their bodies take over instead, using touch to reaffirm their importance to each other. Tony took the lead, mapping out every inch of Bucky’s skin with kisses, each one somehow novel and exhilarating as Bucky’s body still adjusted to the heady sensation of its own _rightness_. 

First, there were the worshipful kisses to Bucky’s cheeks, his temples, his closed eyelids, then finally his lips, and whether to savor the moment or to simply drive Bucky mad, Tony took his sweet time with each tender action, each press of his lips, as he rediscovered and reclaimed Bucky’s body. 

Bucky’s shirt came off next, again, and Bucky was reduced to quiet whimpers of pleasure as Tony mouthed praises against the scarred flesh of his shoulder. 

“Promised I’ll take care of you, so just let me make you feel good, okay? Gonna make it so good for you, baby,” Tony kept talking, soft whispers against Bucky’s skin, and he made good on his promise, taking Bucky apart with practiced ease, making him ache for more, but only offering just enough to keep Bucky on the edge of bliss. His lips trailed lower, explored the rest of Bucky’s body, lavishing each inch of him with undivided attention, as if Tony was trying to erase the pain of the last three months with his lips alone.

By god, it was _working_ because the rest of the world ceased to exist and all Bucky could focus on was Tony, who decided to reduce Bucky to a whimpering, begging mess as he finally got around to prepping him, using practiced, patient, _infuriatingly slow_ movements. Bucky thought he’d lose his mind like this, needy and eager and so close to the edge, but then Tony finally found mercy and Bucky found _heaven_ , his whole world put back to rights when Tony made love to him, gentle and slow until it wasn’t, until their movements became desperate, driven by the need to _feel_ , to prove to themselves and each other that this life belonged to them, past, present and future.

The sparks of pleasure than began building up at the base of his spine spread through his entire body and Bucky lost himself to the sensation, to this most visceral connection that left no doubt in its wake that this was _real_.

They tumbled into ecstasy together.

Satiated and worn out— _again, but even this wasn’t enough, it would never be enough_ — they wrapped around each other, refusing to be anything but skin-to-skin close and at this point, Bucky wasn’t sure if he would _ever_ let Tony go.

“It’s been a hell of a day, huh?” Tony whispered against his chest, still a little breathless. “How about we try and get some sleep?”

A jolt of fear shot through the euphoria of the moment and Bucky’s tension must have been obvious because Tony sat up again, his beautiful features marred by a frown when he looked at Bucky. 

“I’m not— I’m not sure if I can go to sleep…”

What if he woke up to the same thing again? Separated from Tony, _alone_ , some place where he could never find his way back home? What if this was all a dream too?

“I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you, how terrifying it must’ve been… All I can do is promise I’ll be here when you wake up…”

 _You weren’t here when I woke up last time_ , Bucky’s treacherous mind offered and he _hated_ himself in that moment. None of this was Tony’s fault, he knew that with certainty, so he shoved the uncharitable, _unearned_ self-pity back with practiced ruthlessness.

“Just trust me, okay, sweetheart?” Tony took his silence for reluctance however, “I know I didn’t keep you safe last time, but if you could just trust me again, I promise I’ll be here.”

That was enough to pull Bucky’s protective instincts back to forefront and with a deep, fortifying breath, he let the Soldier take some of the control from him, use their training to steady his nerves, to push the terror at the prospect of losing this all again back until it was just a hum of nervous energy at the back of his head. 

He had to, because Tony was here, _pleading_ with Bucky for trust, as if he thought it was necessary to convince Bucky that he was worthy of it.

In their crazy whirlwind of a life, Tony was the _only_ one who had Bucky’s unfailing trust.

“I trust you, honey. I know it’ll be okay,” Bucky said, making sure his fear didn’t slip into his voice, but Tony could see right through him because those warm eyes softened, taking Bucky in with understanding instead of pity. Never pity.

“You’re not alone anymore. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Tony sealed the promise with a kiss, then settled back against Bucky and grabbed a blanket to keep them both comfortable and warm.

Bucky waited until Tony fell asleep, although it took longer than usual for his lover’s breathing to even out and for his body to go slack with sleep and relax fully against Bucky. He held him for a while just like that, listening to the steady breaths, feeling the rise and fall of Tony’s chest against his own. If he concentrated enough, his super soldier hearing could even pick up Tony’s heartbeat.

These simple physical reminders were his courage as he braved the siren call of sleep.

 _We trust him,_ the Soldier whispered _, so sleep and I’ll stand guard to watch over you_

At the Soldier’s murmur, Bucky tightened his hold on Tony and closed his eyes.

***

He slept without dreams and when his eyes fluttered open at the first light of dawn, he was met with the precious, perfect sight of the love of his life sleeping peacefully next to him.


	14. Chapter 14

“Still can’t believe you grew a muskrat on my face,” Bucky grumbled as he scrunched up his nose and glared in James’ direction— _Bucky didn’t know what else to call the man, but their given name was as good a moniker as any, he supposed_ — to which James responded with an amused huff, unable to offer anything more than an apologetic shrug and a smile.

It should’ve been a lot weirder, talking to a version of himself like this, but he supposed adapting to whatever life threw at him, rolling with the metaphorical (and actual) punches was one of the things Bucky did best. This was bizarre, yes, even by the shitty standards of his life, but stressing out over the absurdity of the situation wasn’t going to help anyone.

_In a room with two Starks and another Winter Soldier. Hell, I’ve had worse company than this._

One Stark was currently plastered to James’ side, snuggled comfortably under the man’s arm. One of his hands rested on James’ knee, as if it belonged there and nowhere else, and the thumb tracing lazy lines against the jeans kept catching Bucky’s eye. He tried not to stare, but it was difficult to pay attention to anything other than the two lovebirds wrapped around each other on the couch.

Bucky also pointedly ignored the fact that they were still in the wrong _bodies_ and just remained grateful that the two had kept things decent.

Everyone else abandoned them a while back, once the novelty of _seeing double_ wore off (and once this universe’s Colonel Rhodes determined none of them were secret aliens in disguise), so now it was just the four of them, waiting for Loki and Strange to finish the preparations needed to switch them back.

“Hey, you be nice to my James,” Stark pointed a finger in his direction and then wrapped his arm even tighter around James’ waist. “Doesn’t matter what _atrocity_ he’s decided to grow on his face, he’s still more handsome than—”

“Correction, he grew that on _my_ face. Now I gotta spend hours making myself look like a decent sorta fella after all this is done.”

“Well, give him a little slack, it’s not _entirely_ his fault. I mean, just look at him.” Stark practically pouted as he settled his hand gently on James’ cheek, turning the man’s face so he would look at Stark. Even though Stark’s tone was meant to be teasing, Bucky could still detect the worry underlying the playfulness. “My poor James, all skinny and underfed. Apparently no one here had even bothered to feed my super soldier!”

That last part Stark directed at the other Stark— _hell, Bucky needed to start calling one of them Tony before this got even more confusing_ — who just rolled his eyes and flopped down on the couch next to Bucky.

“I tried, okay?” Stark grumbled and crossed his arms, then unceremoniously swung his feet over to rest on the coffee table in front of him. “There’s only so much you can do in the face of all that _brooding_ and _pining_.”

Bucky thought about bringing up the terrible eating habits that Tony— _James’ Tony_ — took to in the last three months, but the words died in his throat at the last second. It wasn’t really his place. Hell, he already felt like the odd man out in this group, so the last thing he needed was to stick his nose where it didn’t belong.

He glanced around at the others. James and Tony, they had each other. This universe’s Stark already had a full life of his own, with family and friends, with every necessary resource and support he required. 

What exactly did Bucky have? 

Soon he’d be back in his own broken body, with no real home, not even a dime to his name, and no one to turn to. At least he wasn’t a fugitive anymore, so he supposed it could’ve been worse.

_With my life, it can_ always _be worse._

And sure, _Steve_ would welcome “the right Bucky” back with open arms, but based on everything he learned in the last three months, Bucky had some serious soul-searching he needed to do before approaching his once best friend.

So he was essentially alone now. It wouldn’t have bothered him quite so much, he had been alone for many years, but the way Tony _looked_ at James— _the way he looked at_ Bucky _for those first few weeks_ — the way he spoke to him, _about_ him, the way they touched, all those reverent caresses, as if they were something _precious_ to each other, it all made Bucky’s chest ache with an unfamiliar pain.

“He really did try to feed me, Tony,” James reassured his boyfriend, “so don’t give him a hard time, okay? Stark was the best host I could’ve asked for, but you know how it is. Nothing beats home cooking,” he added with a smile and pressed a kiss to Tony’s temple. 

Bucky forced himself to look away. 

He was happy for them, he _was_. Hell, he wasn’t enough for a monster to want these two separated. They _belonged_ together, it was obvious to anyone with a pulse, and some part of him rejoiced to have tangible proof that the Winter Soldier still retained some capacity to love, that someone could love _him_ in return.

Unfortunately, acknowledging that didn’t help alleviate that miserable ache, nor the desperate sort of longing that came to life deep in his belly over the past few months. If Bucky had to pinpoint a specific moment that started it all, he would’ve chosen the second week of his stay with Tony, a few days before Strange arrived. Bucky spent a night tossing and turning as images of blood and death haunted his mind and he woke up shaking, disoriented, and desperately lonely. 

At that time, Tony had been the only person Bucky trusted in any reasonable capacity, so he asked Friday if the man was awake, and it shouldn’t have surprised him that Tony already knew about the nightmare. The man was in Bucky’s room within minutes and at first, all Tony did was talk to him, trying to bring him out of the remnants of the dream. Then, when Bucky regained most of his wits, Tony asked him a simple question.

_“Would it be alright if I held you?”_

With the screams of his victims still echoing in his ears, all Bucky could manage was a shaky nod, not bothering to feel any sort of shame about _needing to be held_. Next thing he knew, there were strong arms wrapped around him, pressing him close to Tony’s warm body, tucking his head under Tony’s chin. 

He clung to the man for rest of the night, soaking in the affection and the tender touch while Tony’s steady voice kept the wretched memories at bay.

Now, no matter how hard he tried, Bucky couldn’t shake off the desire for _more_. The need for touch and affection, for mutual trust and respect. The need to be seen as something _worthwhile_ , the need to simply be _seen_ , as the man he was now, whoever that was, however broken.

Tony was speaking with the other Stark now, the two of them having quickly taken over the conversation to babble back and forth about engineering. Without missing a beat, without even a pause in the conversation, Tony sat up a little straighter and just pressed a kiss to James’ cheek, then kept on talking a mile a minute about arc reactors. 

It was such a simple gesture, unprompted, undemanding, imbued with _so much_ —

Bucky swallowed back the bitter jealousy. 

_Jesus christ, Barnes, show a little dignity and just be happy for them._

While the Starks kept talking (and James paid attention to _Tony_ and not much else), Bucky kept to himself as he tried to prepare for the upcoming switch.

The overgrown beard and the few lost pounds really weren’t important, despite him pretending to make a fuss. Both were simple enough to fix, but the triggers, the missing arm, and of course the decades’ worth of horrible memories that were never treated with any sort of therapy…

Bucky knew the body he occupied didn’t belong to him. It was _James_ who put in the hard work to heal from the damage they’ve suffered. The switch would simply give the man back what was rightfully his, but knowing that didn’t stop Bucky from feeling envious (and then immediately guilty because what sort of man coveted another man’s life like this?).

The only solace, he supposed, was that the ever-present sense of wrongness would finally go away.

Someone cleared their throat and Bucky looked over his shoulder to see Strange poking his head through the doorway of the other room.

“We’re ready whenever you are.”

Bucky met James’ eye when he looked back and it was a strange sort of comfort to see the same uncertainty in those familiar features, the same apprehension that had Bucky’s heart suddenly hammering away in his chest. Nevertheless, they were both a determined sort and they’ve faced bigger, _scarier_ monsters than this.

Still, Bucky hesitated, if only because some selfish part of him kept whispering that _this wasn’t fair_.

It was the right thing to do though. James suffered enough— _more than Bucky could even imagine_ — and it was time to fix this cosmic mistake, so he took a deep breath and got up to his feet. 

James gently extricated himself from Tony’s grasp, despite the obvious reluctance, and Tony stood up too, never letting go of James’ hand.

While the two murmured reassurances to each other, Stark shifted from foot to foot next to Bucky.

“You sure you’re okay with all this?”

Bucky blinked at the man. “We don’t have much of a choice. Switch’s gotta happen, right? Especially since Loki and Strange both said our minds would begin to break down if we’re stuck in the wrong bodies for too long.”

“No, yeah, that makes sense,” Tony fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve, radiating discomfort, and Bucky wondered if that was due to his presence. James and Stark seemed to have formed a truce, but Bucky wasn’t _that_ James and he had no idea how Stark felt about him being here. “It’s just that— well, doesn’t matter which way you slice it, I can’t imagine this being very pleasant for you, so I just, uh— wanted to make sure you were alright with everything.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Bucky shrugged, even though he appreciated the token concern, “I’ve been through worse.”

***

Two simple chairs stood before them in a circle of indecipherable glyphs painted on the floor and behind the set up was Loki, flipping through another one of his ancient looking scripts. 

“Well, it’s about time,” the god drawled when they arrived, “come now, you two. Sit down and hold hands.”

Having dealt with months of Loki’s annoying antics, Bucky was left entirely unperturbed by the request and he obeyed with nothing more than grimace. His counterpart followed his lead.

“So, what does this switcheroo entail exactly?” Stark asked, contemplating the god with no small dose of skepticism. Bucky didn’t particularly blame him. Despite being genuinely helpful so far, this Loki guy still rubbed him in all the wrong ways. 

“It’s quite simple really. The universe— _every_ universe— desires balance above all else and if given the chance, it will always correct the error forced upon it by an outside force. Currently, we have two souls out of place. Allow them to connect and they will find their way back to their rightful place. Strange and I will simply facilitate that process.”

“So, all they gotta do is hold hands, you wave a wand over them, and boom, presto change-o, everyone’s in the right body, just like that?”

Loki levered Stark with a withering glare. “You know, I find you far less pleasant than your counterpart. _My_ Tony is delightful. You are just a pest.” 

Both Tony Starks responded with an impressive double eye roll. Stark also muttered some choice words about Loki’s ancestors under his breath before adding, “I just want to make sure we don’t make this whole mess even worse, okay?” 

“I assure you this is the easiest part of the whole day,” Strange spoke up, now somewhere behind Bucky as well, “so can we please get on with it? I have _literally_ opened a portal between universes today, I do not have the energy to deal with bickering between an annoying demi-god and _two_ Tony Starks.”

“Got no argument from me,” James offered and Bucky nodded along. For better or worse, it was time.

He reached out his metal hand— _not his for long_ — and James clasped it in his own.

“I’m sorry that this isn’t really a fair switch,” James glanced over, appearing genuinely guilty, which only made Bucky feel worse about his earlier thoughts.

He shook his head and smiled. “Nah, nothing to apologize for. You’ve had it a whole lot worse than I did. I’m just glad we’re here now. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll miss the arm— it’s one hell of an arm— but it’ll be damn good to feel like I belong in my own skin again.”

James nodded. “This has got to be the weirdest thing we’ve ever gotten ourselves into.” He squeezed around the metal hand. “Let’s try not to outdo ourselves next time, huh?”

Bucky offered him the most sincere grin he could manage. “Sounds good to me.” 

Loki instructed them to close their eyes and focus on the physical connection between them. The last thing Bucky saw was Tony’s smiling face— _smiling at James_ — and Stark’s more apprehensive expression— _focused on Loki_ — before Bucky obeyed the god’s command. 

Loki and Strange both began to chant, something in an unfamiliar language— _it sounded like Latin, but Bucky couldn’t recognize a single word_ — and for a few beats, nothing actually happened. 

Bucky took a deep, steadying breath and tightened his hold on the hand clasped in his own, suddenly panicked that this would fail somehow—

But before the worry had a chance to truly take hold, Bucky’s whole body began to tingle, then grew suddenly hot, _impossibly_ hot, and he gasped for air—

The world around him turned black and for a moment— _or an hour or days or an infinitesimal fraction of a second, Bucky couldn’t tell_ — he was compressed down to a mere singularity, the entirety of his existence a pinprick of light drowning in a sea of nothing as his soul found its way back home on the wings of forces he would never truly comprehend. 

Then, another moment— _eternity_ — of infinite darkness before—

He choked, straining for air like a man drowning, and _now_ that panic was setting in, because he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t _move_ , not with the darkness pressing down on him—

One ragged inhale, his lungs finally filling with air, and as the light of the world around him flooded back, every broken part of him began to fall back into place as well. The metal around his hand let go and he curled in on himself, focusing on nothing else but taking unsteady, gulping breaths.

Every memory, every image, every painful, heart-wrenching moment. It was all back. 

He almost forgot how many there actually were.

“You with me, honey?” It was Tony, his voice washed out and distant over the roar of blood pounding in Bucky’s ears. He heard James murmur something back, although Bucky couldn’t make out the words.

Bucky bit into his lip to stifle a whimper as memories kept shoving themselves back, sharp and vivid and fresh all over again. His left side throbbed with a dull, familiar ache. 

“Everything alright with you?” That was James, and Bucky had to assume the question was meant for him.

Fuck, Bucky needed to get it together (or at least _act_ like it). The last thing anyone needed was worrying about him and his sorry state.

A deep breath through his nose and then Bucky sat up straight and blinked open his eyes.

Loki and Strange were off to the side, exchanging quiet words while keeping a careful eye on the rest of them. Tony was kneeling on the floor, between James’ knees, his hands never stopping the gentle touches that seemed so natural between these two. James’ arms were already settled around Tony’s waist. They were both studying Bucky with concern, so he offered them a smile. 

“Feeling fine, yeah,” he lied and forced his smile to stretch even wider. With a glance to the side, he realized that Stark, surprisingly, had been standing next to Bucky, examining him with a critical eye.

Ignoring every ache and the relentless barrage of memories, Bucky gave an exaggerated wiggle of his shoulders and cracked his neck to one side, then the other.

“Think I’m done with this magical portals crap though. Can’t we just go back to _punching_ the bad guys in the mouth instead?”

“I’ll be honest, that sounds amazing,” James offered his own smile— _actually genuine_ — and then, having obviously decided that Bucky didn’t require any of his help, the man’s attention promptly shifted back to Tony.

The metal hand caressed one of Tony’s temples, which had Tony sighing and nuzzling the metal palm. Then James drew him closer and kissed him, deep and needy and shameless, before whispering something that had Tony looking torn between embarrassment and anticipation, if that breathless laugh he let out was anything to go by.

Every movement, every touch, all of it was affection personified. That damn _longing_ returned with a vengeance and it settled sour in Bucky’s stomach against the background noise of violent memories.

“Oh, for god’s sake, get a room, you two, and I mean that _literally_ ,” Strange admonished loudly, breaking the two love birds apart, albeit barely.

“For _my_ sake, Strange, why must you ruin this lovely show?” Loki complained without missing a beat. “They were just getting to the good part.”

“No, I’m with Strange on this. It’s too weird, even for me,” Stark chimed in before making shooing noises at the couple. “Come on, Barnes, you still have a room here, so you two, go and uh— _talk_ or whatever.”

“Well, if you insist,” James’ face lit up with a wicked grin and he turned back to Tony, stroking his cheek and brushing their noses together, “ _solnishko i ya_ , we do have so much… _talking_ to catch up on. Don’t we, my gorgeous mechanic?”

Tony wasn’t given a chance to answer because James effortlessly picked him up in a bridal carry, ignoring both Tony’s startled squeak and the man’s protests. The super soldier gave them all one last look, his eyes full of boyish excitement— _contentment, joy, rapture_ — and then walked out of the door to everyone’s cheers and whistlers (including Bucky’s own).

“I’m gonna have to burn that room down, won’t I?” Stark muttered distractedly, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes lingered on the opened doorway. 

Bucky didn’t answer. Now that Tony and James were gone, his incentive to put on a show wasn’t quite so great, so he let his shoulders slump again. Fuck, he was _exhausted_. 

His elbow dug into his thigh and he squeezed his eyes shut as he rubbed careful circles into his temple, hoping to stave off the throbbing pressure building up behind his eyes. It helped a little, but then there was also the nausea, so he was miserable either way.

“Hey, where are you two going?”

Bucky assumed that was meant for the two sorcerers. 

“We have business to attend to,” Loki replied cryptically. _No surprise there._

“Business? In my universe? Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“Stark, I promise it’s nothing nefarious,” Strange assured, “we simply want to find my counterpart and have… _words_ with him.”

“Yes, _words_ , certainly,” Loki added before his voice dropped an octave lower into something far more threatening, “although I may also _murder_ that imbecile for messing with forces his feeble mind could never even begin to comprehend. He could’ve unraveled our realities entirely with his careless, arrogant actions, could’ve destroyed us all—” Loki cut himself off and it sounded like he was brushing down his leather coat. “So yes, we’ll have _words_ with Strange.”

Honestly, Bucky couldn’t disagree with the god’s vengefulness. If he weren’t feeling like a pile of broken bits right about now, he’d ask to join them for this little _conversation_.

“You know I’m standing right here, right?”

“Oh, Stephen, darling, you know I wasn’t speaking ill of _you_. You are pleasant company and a competent mage, if a little green around the edges. Your _counterpart_ however… well, we shall see if this universe will need a new Sorcerer Supreme by the day’s end.”

Strange sighed and Bucky could picture, clear as day, the poor man rubbing the bridge of his nose, something the mage had done _a lot_ over the past few months. Loki had a unique way of giving everyone within a mile radius of him a throbbing tension headache.

“Well, uh…” That was Tony, struggling to reply. “Just don’t kill him, okay?” he finally managed. “Maim him a little or something, put the fear of god in him— yes, I guess that means you, Rock of Ages— whatever. Just no murder, got it?”

Loki grumbled something about _ruining his fun_ , but Strange assured Stark that violence would be kept to a minimum— _Bucky doubted that_ — and with that, the two mages conjured a portal to somewhere and promptly disappeared.

For a minute, there was silence and Bucky’s addled mind just assumed Stark had left as well, which was why he actually startled when the man addressed him.

“Barnes? Hey, you wanna come sit over in the common room?” 

Bucky forced his muscles to move so he could look up at Stark, only to be met with that same scrutinizing gaze that had Bucky feeling exposed, like Stark could see right down to his very soul. 

“You look like you’re about to keel over, so I just figured the couch would be comfier, especially if you’re planning to pass out.”

“M’not gonna pass out,” Bucky felt the need to clarify, but it ended up sounding more petulant than he intended. Still, the couch _did_ sound better.

With some effort, he managed up onto his feet and once the couch was within reach, he collapsed onto the soft cushions with a groan.

“You need Medical?” Stark asked after he settled in on the edge of the coffee table. Bucky regarded him for a long moment before answering, mostly because he wondered whether it was some strange cosmic symmetry that found them in this position.

“Nah, I’m alright,” he finally said, then let out a long breath, “m’not sick or nothin’. Just need time to, uh— to get used to all this again.”

He hated remembering, hated that his past was vivid and raw deep inside him again. The echoes of him screaming during yet another wipe, the slurred begging of his victim as she bled out, the crunch of bones beneath his fist, the ruthless eyes and cruel hands of his handlers, the taste of ashes on his tongue. 

It was easier to manage the memories before, but the last three months offered him a taste of _freedom_. Freedom from all that pain, the shame, the guilt, the fucking _screaming_. He lost that freedom now.

Hell, even physically, he was broken all over again.

He hunched in on himself, unable to keep up the charade any longer despite his best efforts, and his face twisted in bitter self-pity.

“This is now, what? The _third_ time I lost an arm? You’d think I’d be used to it by now.” 

He regretted the words almost immediately when he saw guilt in Stark’s own darkened expression. 

“Fuck, sorry, I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, I’m sorry. The last thing I wanna do is bring up all the shit that happened, what I did— god, I never even apologized—”

“Let me just stop you right there.”

Despite being firm, Stark’s tone lacked any biting anger, but Bucky still shrunk in on himself, wishing he could make himself smaller, more unobtrusive, maybe just _disappear_ altogether. He didn’t know what to do, what to say, not around _this_ Stark.

“I’m not saying we can’t talk about what happened, but all of that crap? That can wait till later. Right now, just… focus on feeling better, okay?”

The words were said so softly that it had Bucky looking up to meet the man’s eyes, and he was surprised yet again when he saw no tricks, no mockery, no suspicion there.

No fear and definitely no hatred either, not like the last time the two of them technically met.

Instead, Stark looked like he actually _cared_ , nothing but earnest concern in his eyes, and for a second, Bucky was overwhelmed with an unyielding, treacherous, _ridiculous_ desire to crawl off the couch and just let himself curl up in Stark’s arms. 

The lump in his throat grew thorns and it took several deep inhales through his nose before he managed to push that desire back. It wasn’t gone, not completely, but he got himself to a point where he was confident enough that he wouldn’t actually follow through on it. 

He did offer a nod and a quiet “Thank you,” probably late enough to be considered rude, but Stark didn’t call him on it.

“Is there, uh—” Stark stopped to lean on his elbows and clasp his hands together, “is there anything I can help with though? You seen pretty miserable.”

Bucky shook his head, barely, so as not to aggravate the headache. “No, like I said, just need to ride this one out. There’s nothin’ wrong with me, not really. It’s just—” he grimaced and looked away, focusing instead on the way Stark’s fingers tapped a rhythm against one another. “After what went down in DC, I had time to adjust to all the shit that happened to me, everything that I remembered from the last seven decades. M’not saying any of it was _easy_ , I just— got used to it.”

Stark hummed. “Humans adapt. It’s what we do, even when it’s awful shit we have to get used to.”

“Right. But to have all that back so abruptly… I just need time, that’s all. It’s already better.”

In his defense, that wasn’t a complete lie. The nausea receded, actually replaced by hunger now, and the throbbing in his head wasn’t getting _worse_ , which in itself was blessing enough.

Unfortunately, that was all short-term and Bucky couldn’t help but think about his long-term prospects as well. Now that this multiverse absurdity was mostly behind them, he was left with the same shitty hand dealt to him before and even though he _hated_ making this decision the first time around…

“You said we’re all pardoned now, right?” He continued when Stark nodded. “You, uh— you think T’Challa would mind helping me out again?”

“Uh, I don’t think he would _mind_ , no, but— and I don’t mean to brag or anything— but I’m pretty sure whatever it is you need, we can take care of it here.”

“You got an extra cryo chamber lying around somewhere?” 

Stark’s eyes widened and he sat up straighter. “Cryo? What are you talking about?”

“I still have the triggers,” Bucky tapped his temple, surprised that Stark forgot that little tidbit, “still a weapon just waiting to be pointed at someone. I don’t want that, don’t want to hurt someone again, so it’d be best for everyone—” he swallowed back the fear, the reluctance, the _ache_ , “it’d be better if I just go under again.”

Stark just blinked at him, but before Bucky had the chance to figure out why the man was so confused, Stark groaned and scrubbed a frustrated hand across his forehead.

“I’m an idiot. I’m sorry, I’m a total idiot and it’s completely my fault, but with all the _shenanigans_ of the past few hours, it completely slipped my mind that you didn’t know.”

“Know what?”

“Did you ever meet Princess Shuri?”

“Not meet, no, but T’Challa talked about her. His sister, right?”

“Yup and apparently she befriended your counterpart while he was hanging out in Wakanda. Now, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but she’s quite the smarty pants, so she decided to find a way to erase your triggers in her spare time.”

It was Bucky’s turn to blink at the man. 

“Are you serious?” he asked once he found his voice, all of his physical and mental misery momentarily forgotten as he processed Stark’s words.

“One hundred percent serious. It’s all done, actually. Me and Barnes— the other one— we were postponing the procedures in the hopes we’d get this multiverse business figured out first, but now there’s no reason to delay. Oh, and she made you an arm too.”

“An- an arm? Stark, this is… incredible, I’m not—” Bucky wasn’t sure what to do with the rising hope in his chest and it felt oddly out of place when contrasted against everything else he was experiencing. “I can’t believe this… But wait, do you, uh— do you think she’ll mind that I’m the wrong Barnes though?”

“Technically, you’re the _right_ Barnes,” Tony pointed out with a smile that Bucky would’ve called playful if Stark had been looking at anyone _but_ him, “and no, I don’t think she’ll mind at all. She’s a good kid _and_ she’d never pass up the chance to use her shiny tech.”

“This is— wow, that’s a lot to take in.”

“Sorry I didn’t say anything earlier. This dumb ‘alternate universes’ crap fried my brain. If it’s alright with you though, I can give Shuri a call tomorrow, get the ball rolling. Unless you still _want_ to go the cryo route?”

“No, no,” Bucky’s head shake was a lot more determined this time, “I want to get better.”

“Alright then, square deal, I’ll get the Princess on the phone tomorrow,” Stark promised, then fidgeted, his movements straying into awkwardness. “So, uh— yeah, with that said, I should probably get going. I mean, Rhodey’s gonna read me the riot act for letting Loki and Strange out of my sight, so probably better to just rip that band-aid off. Just, uh— ask Friday to point you to an available room, she’ll get you all set up and if you need anything else, she can help with that too. Don’t hesitate to ask, okay?”

With that, Stark stood up, ready to leave, but something in Bucky, some deep-seated instinct, had him reaching out to stop the man from walking away.

Stark stilled and looked down where Bucky’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, before meeting Bucky’s eyes with a questioning eyebrow. Bucky flushed, realizing what he did, and he let go, but Stark didn’t move away, just followed Bucky with his eyes as he stood up too.

“Sorry, I just, uh— didn’t want you to leave before I could thank you.”

“It’s no big deal,” Stark shrugged, “Shuri’s doing most of the work.”

“It’s not that, no,” Bucky said, then grimaced when the rest of the words scattered in his head. Words were easier, _before_ , but nowadays, they would just get lodged in his throat and leave him floundering. “I don’t know what went on with you and James, where you two stand, but the two of us… You have every right to kick me to the curb, Stark. Every right not to care whether I live or die. But you’re still here… and even if this just token concern, it’s still more than I deserve. So _thank you_.”

There was something painfully open in Stark’s eyes, just one moment of _something_ Bucky couldn’t begin to describe, but the warmth and the sincerity of it all had him clinging to it, even after it was replaced by Stark’s devil-may-care smile.

“I’m not gonna kick you out, Snowflake, you wouldn’t last a day on the streets of New York. And actually, you know what? I changed my mind, Rhodey and his lecture can wait. Here, come on,” he beckoned over and started moving,  “I’ll walk you to your room. Fri, baby girl, can you do me a favor, please? Send someone up with some food, something hardy, classic comfort foods maybe. Probably three or four servings, you know how these super soldiers are. Oh, and add a pair of scissors to that, _and_ a razor.” He stopped to give Bucky a disapproving look. “That muskrat has got to go.”

Bucky smiled, warmth settling in somewhere deep, deep inside where the memories of his past couldn’t reach, some place that Stark’s presence _did_ reach however, which left Bucky both anxious and hopeful.

He pushed away the fear, leaving it for another day, and clung to that hope instead. 

“Lead the way, Stark.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say, as always, thank you to everyone who takes the time to leave lovely comments and say (or yell or cry) nice things at me. I've been pretty bad about replies in the past few weeks, but please know they're always appreciated! <3

Waking up next to Tony was pure relief, but kissing him awake was _heaven_ and Bucky didn’t let either one of them leave the bed until they both reaffirmed their existence to each other, thoroughly and pleasurably.

Then, after another long shower and an equally unhurried breakfast, Bucky and Tony spent the rest of the day with Stark. They were all still waiting for Loki and Strange, who didn’t return until later that day (Loki looked like the cat who got the canary and Strange just looked resigned), but this small interlude was also their opportunity to learn from each other. Since both mages assured them that trading information wouldn’t upend their two universes (they ran entirely independent of each other, so no pesky paradoxes to speak of), Tony and Stark decided not to waste a single minute, hunkering down in the lab to begin the data exchange.

Bucky’s counterpart didn’t join them, choosing instead to spend some time on his own to “get my head on straight again.” Bucky understood the need for solitude, but if the man didn’t resurface by dinnertime, Bucky would take it upon himself to check on the man. 

Until then, Bucky was perfectly content to remain at Tony’s side. From his spot on the familiar ratty couch, he watched the two geniuses fuss and exclaim over multitudes of holographic screens. Their techno-science babble washed over him, his own version of a lullaby, and at any other time, Bucky would’ve let himself drift off, but today he just couldn’t take his eyes off Tony.

Bucky knew he wasn’t _okay_ , not yet, not by a long shot. Even now, even with Tony in his line of sight and within reach, Bucky would still find himself, suddenly and abruptly, teetering on the edge of panic, his treacherous mind deciding to indulge in the horrific thought that _none of this is real, you’ll just lose him all over again_.

But then Tony would look over, unmistakable affection and joy making his eyes shine, and those whispers would quiet. Tony would stop by the couch on his way across the lab, would coax Bucky up into a kiss, whisper a tender “M’right here, baby, not going anywhere,” before continuing on to grab whatever tool he was looking for.

Eventually, Bucky gave in to the need to be even closer, so he joined the two scientists at the spacious table that sported an impressive collection of holographic blueprints hovering above it. 

Bucky was content with simply listening, but despite his unobtrusive presence, Tony never went too long without lavishing him with some form of attention, even if their affectionate gestures remained mostly chaste. Tony would give their joined hands a squeeze every once in a while, he’d plant a kiss on Bucky’s cheek or his temple (to the sound of token protests from his counterpart). Sometimes, he’d just _look_ at Bucky, like everything was right in the world again (Bucky knew the feeling all too well). He’d brush the hair out of Bucky’s face, smile, and then return his attention back to Stark, picking up the discussion right where it left off.

Tony was right here with him and the Soldier whispered his own form of encouragements too. Both would remind Bucky that he was no longer alone. He was whole again.

Watching Tony like this also reminded Bucky just how lucky he was to have this incredible man in his life. Tony was _so strong_ , stronger than Bucky could ever be. He’d been there for Bucky from the very beginning, not just here, but back at home. Therapy, the triggers, the Soldier, everything. Tony had never let him down, held him up instead until Bucky could stand on his own. It was no different here and Bucky marveled at how unfazed Tony remained by the craziness surrounding them. Alternate universes, their own personal doppelgängers, magical spell, portals, mind swaps. Lesser men would have been left catatonic, but not Tony, who seemed _energized_ by the whole thing, talking animatedly with Stark, joking and laughing. 

Tony’s good mood should’ve done wonders for Bucky’s own, but even when the panic receded, there was this other small, selfish, _insecure_ part of him that would come up to the surface instead.

Because looking at Tony, smiling and bantering, it made him wonder whether losing Bucky for three months was as big of a tragedy for Tony as it was for Bucky. The man seemed perfectly at ease, going with the flow of their crazy lives. Sure, he was apologetic last night, but that was expected too. Tony’s sense of responsibility expanded to the whole damn world, not just to Bucky. Of course Tony would see this mess as his own personal failure, even if that was the furthest thing from the truth.

In the end though, Bucky’s own insecurities didn’t matter. Tony was doing well and they were together again. Tony _saved_ him despite the impossible odds and Bucky would spend every day he had left with Tony making himself worth that sort of sacrifice. 

***

Later that day was the first time he and Tony actually separated. It was Bucky’s own decision, which Tony protested at first, but it was high time for Bucky to find his own strength. He needed to prove to himself that reality was within his control again, that none of this was a trick of his mind.

So he sent Tony off to their guest room and focused on the simple task of preparing them both a quick dinner that they could enjoy in their room.

To his surprise, he didn’t remain alone for very long.

“Finally discovered what food is, huh?”

Hearing his own voice (that was sassing him, no less) was still bizarre, but Bucky was slowly getting used to it. 

He glanced up and was taken aback for a moment because his counterpart looked nothing like the man he saw earlier. Gone was the thick beard and the long hair and if it weren’t for the familiar haunted eyes staring back at him, Bucky could’ve sworn he traveled back in time too.

“I said I was sorry, punk,” he teased after getting over his shock, “plus, you know, getting your body back, your entire life… it builds up an appetite. Nice hair, by the way. I haven’t had it that short since the war.”

“Thanks. Thought it was time for a change.”

Bucky wondered whether the other Barnes got rid of the long hair to distance himself from their Winter Soldier past or whether it was a small, token effort to assert his own personhood and differentiate himself from Bucky.

He supposed it could very well be a little bit of both.

“You, uh— you wanna join me and Tony for dinner?” Bucky offered, somewhat awkwardly. A part of him coveted his alone time with Tony, but another (slightly) bigger part sympathized with his counterpart. Bucky remembered what it was like, back before he and Tony reconciled.

“Nah, don’t worry about me,” Barnes smiled knowingly, clearly aware of Bucky’s reluctance, “you two lovebirds have a lot to catch up on, don’t need me butting in on your alone time.” He shifted from foot to foot then, his gaze falling to the floor. “The two of you… you have a real good thing going back in that universe of yours. You’re very lucky.”

The words were laced with a hint of jealously that had Bucky narrowing his eyes. He finished what he was doing, carefully placing the piece of bread over the fresh lettuce, then looked up. When he didn’t respond right away, Barnes met his eyes again and some of Bucky’s protective instincts settled when he didn’t see anything malicious there.

“I’m not going to lie, I am very lucky, yeah,” Bucky agreed without shame, but he tried to soften his next words, “I’m sorry that you get to come back to something different.”

Barnes just gave him a one-armed shrug. “Don’t gotta apologize. S’better than I thought it would be, actually, and I’m a big boy. I can deal. But I just wanted to say,” he bit his lip and his eyes darted to the side before coming back to Bucky, “ah hell, it’s probably not my place, but… Stark seems like a great man. He _is_ a great man, it’s obvious, even from my three short months with him. I mean, I don’t love him or nothin’, but I can see how you could. There’s a lot there to love…”

The Soldier growled, quiet Russian carrying wisps of their own jealously, but Bucky shushed him with a mental eye roll.

“Tony _is_ pretty amazing,” he said instead, unable to help the fondness in his tone, “he’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. Hell, even now he’s the one holding me together. He’s the one putting everyone here at ease, despite, ya know, portals and magic and Loki hanging around.”

“I’ve noticed that, yeah… Stark has a tendency to take care of everyone around him, doesn’t he? He was there for me too, you know. I, uh— my visit to your universe didn’t start out too good.”

Bucky stilled, feeling like a complete idiot when the sudden realization hit him. “Oh god, you woke up in bed with him, didn’t you?”

“Yup,” Barnes popped the consonant, rubbing the back of his head and practically oozing guilt, “I mighta ended up pointing a gun at his head and accusing him of using the triggers on me.”

_I hope you know we’ll have to kill him now._

_We can’t kill ourself, you ass._

_I’ll find a way._

Still, the Soldier had a point. 

Bucky took a calming breath before speaking. “I know this whole situation is a goddamn mess, so I won’t hold that against you, but if you also tell me you actually _hurt_ Tony, in any way, shape, or form, I hope you don’t hold it against _me_ when I beat you to a damn pulp.

Barnes, the stubborn bastard— _and exactly like Bucky, damn him_ — just looked amused by the threat. 

“That’d be one hell of a fight though, wouldn’t it? Kinda curious which one of us would come out on top. Honestly though,” he tilted his chin at Bucky, “I’d put my money you. From what I hear, you’ve got one hell of a vicious streak hidden behind those puppy dog eyes.”

Bucky remained unamused. “I’m being serious. _Did_ you hurt Tony?”

“I’m serious too, punk, so don’t go giving me that frown of yours. And _no_ , I didn’t hurt him. I promise. Stark, he was… Jesus, he was _amazing_. Talked me down when I thought I was losing it, didn’t hold that initial panic against me at all. Then, when everyone thought it was memory loss, he was ready to do whatever it took, hell, probably willing to make me fall in love with him all over again.”

Bucky swallowed hard, his unruly mind unable to do anything but picture Tony, back home, facing a James Barnes who didn’t remember him. God, how did Tony deal with all that and come out in one piece

“Then the whole multiverse bullshit came up,” Barnes kept talking, “he didn’t stop looking for ya, not even for a minute. Didn’t even take one single breather until Loki had that portal good and ready. I know you probably don’t need me sayin’ any of this, but god, that man loves ya. Never seen nothin’ like it, that sorta devotion to another person. But, uh—” Barnes grimaced, looking decidedly self-conscious. “S’been a long three months for him, worrying about the two of us, about everyone else, so just take care of him, yeah?”

There was a definite lump in Bucky’s throat now, put there by the sudden guilt over his earlier thoughts. Hearing this, said to him in his own voice, was a confirmation he should’ve never needed in the first place. He should’ve never doubted Tony’s love for him.

“Of course I’ll take care of him,” he said, voice raspy, so he cleared his throat to get rid of the bundle of guilt wedged there.

“So, any advice for me before you disappear back to your cushy life with Stark? I think I got a good read on him, but I get the feeling dealing with Tony Starks comes with its own extensive manual.

After a few seconds to gather himself, Bucky leaned against the counter and contemplated the question. 

“Our past with Tony, that makes things complicated, yeah, but Tony himself? It’s a lot simpler to get along with him than you think. Just… be good to him. I know that sounds trite, but uh—” he scratched at his now barely stubbled cheek, “well, here, like you said, Tony has a tendency to take care of others. He does things for others all the time, he creates things for them. It’s how he shows that he care. Thank him when he does those things, simple as that. Be honest with him, even when that honesty hurts, because that man has been betrayed and lied to so damn much, and if you are ever lucky enough to earn his trust, don’t fuck it up with platitudes and white lies. Don’t fall for the masks he wears, because he has plenty of those. That man in front of the media, with Steve, with the others? That’s not Tony. You’ll find the real Tony somewhere in the lab half-asleep, talking to his bots and creating something amazing to help someone else. Take care of him, if you can, even something as simple as a cup of coffee, but don’t patronize him, don’t treat him like a child.”

His own words had Bucky’s chest swelling with so much affection, reminding him just how much he loved this man.

“So treat him like a decent human being is what you’re telling me?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Bucky huffed, partly amused, but the rest of him was bitter, “you’d be surprised how much other people struggle with being _decent_ sometimes, at least when it comes to Tony.

“Speaking of the others… Anything mission critical I gotta know about _them_? Clear as day that we’re not on good terms with Steve nowadays, but I know there’s gotta be more to that.”

Bucky would’ve preferred to keep talking about Tony, if he were honest, but he had to admit this was just as important. “How much do you know exactly?”

“Based on what I’ve seen and the little I’ve heard,” Barnes said and his eyes darkened dangerously, a mirror image of Bucky’s own, “apparently not nearly enough.”

Bucky’s lips stretched into the Soldier’s sharp smile. “Well then, why don’t I tell you all about the Hydra scum that’s been slithering about in our life?

***

“Tony?” 

Bucky tamped down his anxiety when he found the room empty, but thankfully, the worry dissipated quickly when he heard the water running in the bathroom. Going into panic mode anytime Tony was out sight was definitely not sustainable, but Bucky had to accept that it would take time for him to settle back into the ebbs and flows of their regular life. He ignored the nagging thought that “regular life” may have to take on a different form after something like this.

“Tony, doll,” he raised his voice to be heard over the running water, “I have food whenever you’re ready.”

Actually, Bucky realized right after he spoke, a shared shower _before_ the food sounded even more enticing, so he tried the door and when he found it unlocked, he turned the handle to see if he could join Tony for a quick rinse.

Tony, who _wasn’t_ in the shower, still fully closed in fact, spun around where he was standing in front of the running sink.

Red-rimmed, wet eyes stared back at Bucky as neither of them moved, but then Tony was turning away, shutting the water off, and wiping furiously at his eyes.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, nothing, just, uh— got something in my eye,” the sharp hitch in his voice ratcheted Bucky’s worry right up to ten. He gently took Tony by the shoulders and turned him around so they could face each other.

“Tony, _solnishko_ , were you in here _crying_?”

“No, I’m fine, it’s nothing—” a broken sob betrayed Tony just as much as the fresh swell of tears did. The man twisted, trying to get out of Bucky’s grasp, but the effort was short lived and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

Bucky tilted Tony’s face up and ran a thumb across his cheek, wiping away the stray tear, but Tony didn’t meet his eyes and it had Bucky feeling all of two inches tall all of the sudden. The image of Tony, crying here alone, managed to break his heart all over again _and_ make him feel like the most inconsiderate person alive.

“M’sorry, James, I don’t— I just needed a moment, it’s fine, you don’t have to worry.”

Hiding himself away because he didn’t want Bucky to _worry_ about him?

Oh, but did Bucky hate himself right then.

He drew Tony into his arms. Despite the man’s token assurances, he obviously _wasn’t_ fine, evidenced by the fact that Tony just _clung_ to him and his smaller frame began shaking in Bucky’s arms, wrecked with sobs that were now muffled into Bucky’s shoulder. 

“Oh Tony, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Bucky murmured, but the words felt inadequate, a pathetic attempt to assuage his own guilt. God, Tony found his way across the universes to take Bucky home and here was Bucky, unable to recognize that his boyfriend had reached his breaking point, too distracted by Tony’s nonchalant, carefree display. Didn’t he just tell his own counterpart not to fall for Tony’s masks? 

“I’m so sorry you thought you had to hide this from me,” he smoothed Tony’s hair down, cradling his head as Tony cried, fresh tears wet against Bucky’s neck, “I’m here now, honey, I’m so sorry.”

Predictably, Tony shook his head, but at least he wasn’t trying to pull away.

“No, don’t. Not your fault. I’ve just— It’s been three _months_ and I couldn’t— couldn’t let myself think about anything but getting you back. I needed to be strong, because _you_ needed me, because the other Barnes needed me— but then it all finally hit me just now—” the words broke on another ragged breath and Bucky whispered soothing nonsense, rocking them back and forth where they stood. Tony’s fingers clutched at the back of Bucky’s shirt even harder when he rasped out a desperate, “I was so scared I lost you, James…”

God, Bucky really should have known better. How the hell could he have missed this? Everyone had a breaking point. Hell, Bucky reached _his_ after hours of being here. Tony had kept going for three months, working tirelessly to put the multiverse back to rights. 

Carefully, he guided them both over to the bed so they could sit down on the soft comforter. Tony was still trembling, still clinging to Bucky like a lifeline and all Bucky could do in return was keep up the soothing touches, fingers carding through Tony’s hair and a hand running up and down his back, the same comfort Tony offered him when Bucky needed it most.

Doing the same for Tony, it pushed Bucky to rediscover his own reserve of strength that he had initially envied in Tony. It made sense, really. Bucky had always been at his best when he has something— _or someone_ — to fight for, to protect, to take care of. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to be strong anymore, I’m right here.”

He kept rocking them back and forth and he would’ve done it for eternity if he had to, but Tony was the one to pull away first. Tony still didn’t look at him, not right away, taking the time to swipe at his eyes none too gently, trying to compose himself first, but the puffy eyes and the wet cheeks, the slumped shoulders and the tremble of Tony’s hands, it all betrayed how fragile and exhausted he was in this moment.

Finally, sad brown eyes met Bucky’s gaze. 

“I was so scared I’d never find you…”

“You did find me though,” Bucky assured. It was the same awful terror that threatened to bring him down too, but he didn’t voice that fear now. This wasn’t about him, not anymore. “You conquered the impossible, sweetheart, just like you always do.”

Tony met that sentiment with a crooked smile. “Everything looks a lot better in hindsight though, doesn’t it? I know we’re all here _now_ , but… Fuck, James, back home, I didn’t know what to do. At first, I thought it was memory loss, which was bad enough, but then it wasn’t _you_ losing memories, no, it was _me_ losing _you_ … You went through so much because of this—” Tony’s face crumbled and he couldn’t finish the thought, but Bucky didn’t need him to. “Fuck, I felt so useless—”

“Tony, honey, no, don’t say that. You remember what we talked about last night, right?”

Defiant eyes framed by lingering tears stared back at Bucky, and he could have offered more reassurances then, more words to convince Tony that this _wasn’t_ his fault, not in the slightest, but Bucky had always been a man of action.

He leaned in to press a kiss to Tony’s forehead, letting his lips linger against the warm skin. It was his turn now, to take care of this fearless, amazing man who was even stronger than Bucky had initially thought. 

He kissed Tony’s temple, then the corners of his eyes, his cheeks, and finally his lips. The salt he tasted there reminded him how Tony willingly sacrificed himself for others. Tony was the type of man to rip his own heart out and offer it to someone else because they needed it more. Tony gave so much of himself away, until he was left bare and hollow.

“You never gave up on me, sweetheart. You’re incredible and I’m so lucky to have you,” Bucky whispered against Tony’s lips, then kissed him again, hoping it conveyed everything Bucky wanted to say.

The kiss never grew more heated, both of them craving comfort rather than physical pleasure. When they both needed to breathe, Bucky pulled away and dropped his forehead to Tony’s. Eyes closed, he gave himself another chance to take in every visceral element of the moment, to catalogue and file away every little detail.

Tony’s warm breath against the line of Bucky’s lips. The sweet, spicy scent Bucky knew so well mingled with something purely _Tony._ The combination teased memories to the surface, moments just like this, the two of them pressed together while the rest of the world faded away.

Tony’s right hand was warm and steady on Bucky’s neck while his thumb absently traced lines back and forth over Bucky’s jaw. His other hand clutched Bucky’s thigh, fingers digging in with a desperation that was achingly familiar.

In that moment, Bucky admitted to himself that this desperation would remain in their lives for a long time. The lingering echos of these past three months, all the pain they suffered when they were torn apart, he knew it would all follow them home. It’d show up as gut-wrenching fear of falling asleep, as creeping doubt whether something was real, as echos of grief so agonizing that it would push Bucky to the very edge again, hell, push them _both_ to their breaking point. 

Neither one of them could simply step through that portal and go back to things exactly as they were before. Not after something like this.

Tony shifted to put some breathing room between them, but the hand on Bucky’s thigh never let go. The man sniffled, rubbed a tired hand over an eye, and then asked a quiet, “Do you think we’ll be okay?” as if reading Bucky’s thoughts. 

Bucky didn’t respond right away, both because there was too much to say— _and somehow not nearly enough_ — and because Tony looked like he wanted to say more.

“We only had six months together,” Tony continued after a beat, “half of which we spent sifting through our collective issues… And then this… To anyone else, three months apart doesn’t sound like much, but three months away from _you_? Three months of thinking I’d never get to see you again?”

“I know, _prelest’_ , I know…” He studied Tony, soaking in every detail again. “But are you asking if we’ll be okay or if _we_ ,” he gestured meaningfully between them, “will be okay?”

“Both?” 

“The way you feel about me, did that change?”

Tony was shaking his head before Bucky had even finished speaking. “No, not even a little. If anything, having you gone just made it painfully clear how dependent I’ve become on you. The only reason I wasn’t a complete mess was because I had an objective.”

“A mission?”

Tony’s lips twitched. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Once I found out that I wasn’t actually dreaming,” Bucky confessed, thinking back to those darker days, “I didn’t let myself have a lot of hope, but I still had plans to use whatever resources I could find to keep looking for a way home even if it took the rest of my life, but a part of me— a part of me thought ‘it was only a few months, Tony still has a chance to move on, to be happy’.”

Tony scoffed weakly. “Yeah, no, that’s not even close to what I was doing. Would _you_ have moved on though?”

Bucky gathered Tony’s hands into his own and pressed a few kisses to the knuckles before answering. “I don’t think a man can move on from Tony Stark, honey.”

“Flatterer.”

“Maybe, but it’s still the truth, and even if you weren’t the most incredible man I’ve ever met,” Bucky continued, relishing that Tony was beginning to look a little less heartbroken and a little more bashful, “even if I _wanted_ to move on, the Soldier would have never accepted anyone else. If you hadn’t noticed, he’s a pretty stubborn bastard and he only has eyes for his clever mechanic. For that matter, so do I. Even if I decided to build a life here, it would’ve been a solitary one. Honestly, I probably would’ve just gone rogue and spent a few years hunting down Hydra.”

“Well, I’m afraid there’s only sanctioned, properly approved Hydra hunting back home, so I hope you don’t mind.”

“I’m willing to overlook that.”

The first hint of a real smile pulled at Tony’s lips, making Bucky own heart beat just a little easier. 

“So,” Tony prompted again, “ _are_ we going to be okay?”

“I think we’ll have to deal with being a little broken for a while. Sometimes, I won’t be able to sleep. Sometimes, I’ll need you to be patient with me if I panic and think that I’m still dreaming.”

“The sight of our empty bed still makes my anxiety spike,” Tony offered in turn, “and you’ll have to be patient with _me_ when I work myself to exhaustion coming up with ten different way to make sure this never happens again.”

“We’ve always been a little broken though, haven’t we? I think we can deal with a few more broken pieces that need to be put back together.”

“And us?”

“I lived through decades of hell, and the one thing that actually broke me was losing you.” Bucky leaned forward and kissed Tony, savoring the taste of _heaven_ and _home_ on his lips. “The only way I’m letting go is if you ask me to.”

Finally, Tony was smiling up at him. “I missed you so damn much, James.”

“I missed you too, sweetheart.”


	16. Chapter 16

“I still can’t believe you domesticated Loki,” Stark remarked from his spot on the couch.

Tony snorted, amused by his counterpart’s genuine disbelief, then let his eyes stray again, back to the room where Loki and Strange were checking James and Barnes over, making sure they were still in good condition after the switch yesterday.

Rhodey quarantined them all to an empty, restricted-use lab (because letting Loki wander around an Avengers Compound where he was still considered a top-level criminal was a bad idea, apparently), so all magic use had to be conducted here. There was a small lounge area outside of the lab, which was where Tony and his counterpart decided to settle in to have their own private chat. The glass wall separating them from the others kept Tony from hearing what was being said, but no one seemed particularly stressed, so he hoped it was all good news.

James caught his eye just then, gave him a wink and a smile, and alleviated Tony’s worry even further.

As their gazes lingered on each other, Tony’s chest swelled with warmth. God, he loved that man and he couldn’t put it into words, not even in his own head, how much it meant to him that James was there yesterday, ready and willing to put Tony back together when Tony found himself falling to pieces.

“I wouldn’t say _domesticated_ is the right word,” Tony finally replied, giving his counterpart a knowing look, “it’s more the old ‘enemy of my enemy is my friend’ type of deal. We’ve got the aliens coming, led by some _Mad Titan_ who tortured Loki and sent him to New York in the first place. We want to protect the planet and Loki wants revenge. For the moment, that makes us allies.”

“Mutual interests, makes sense. What _doesn’t_ make sense though is all that flirting,” Stark pointed out, then made a disgusted face (or at least attempted to, because it was ruined by him trying not to look so amused).

“Yeah, I can’t tell if that’s just Loki trying to get under our skin or if he’s angling for an actual threesome.”

“Oh god, don’t make me imagine that. That’s worse than the stuff we got up to in our twenties,” Stark shook his head, but then his expression turned serious and he tapped his fingers against his chin. “Although, I dunno, he did help you get your James back, that’s a pretty big deal. Yeah, you know what, that settles it. I think you two have no choice but to indulge the horny god in whatever sexual escapades he wants. Out of sheer gratitude of course.”

“I hate you,” Tony deadpanned, but his counterpart was grinning and Tony couldn’t help but match the smile, reveling in the easy-going nature of their conversation. Instead of this whole situation coming off as bizarre or unsettling, it was actually strangely comforting. Talking like this, to the one person who could understand him better than anyone else in the world.

Stark murmured an unapologetic “I know you do,” and then his attention shifted back to the others. It seemed like Tony wasn’t the only who couldn’t keep himself from looking back, but he wondered exactly who it was that Stark was watching.

“He’s a lot different than I expected.”

“Hmm?”

“Barnes— well, both of them really, although I suppose I know yours a little better than I do mine.”

“Mm-hmm, he sure is. You wouldn’t believe how well a person turns out when you remove the 250-pound patriotic tumor attached to their side.”

The laugh Stark let out was nearly a cackle. “Oh god, that’s priceless.” He glanced back over, eyes filled with mirth. “I know you hate me, but I kinda think I love you. It’s weird if I said ‘I love you’, right?”

“It’s a little weird, yeah.”

“Aw, a little self-love never hurt anyone though.”

“Hey, you never know, you’re always risking all that blindness and those hairy palms.”

“Oh my god, I do love you.”

They both just kept grinning at each other like two loons and Tony gave himself a moment to appreciate that he was having inappropriate banter with _himself_.

It really wasn’t as weird as it should’ve been.

Once his delight was mostly under control, Tony let his voice drop a little, into something softer. “He really is great though. He’s funny and charming and he laughs at my dumb jokes. He’s so strong, to face his past, to move forward like he did. It takes my breath away sometimes. He’s gentle and kind, but only if people deserve it, and he doesn’t hesitate to call someone out on their shit. And you know,” Tony looked over conspiratorially, “he is not bad to look at either.”

Stark didn’t argue the point, just tilted his head in acknowledgement, then gave Tony one considering glance before looking away again. They both watched as Loki rolled his eyes, expression exasperated and hands planted on his hips as he ranted about something, and Tony had a sneaking suspicion James was mouthing off to the god, if the super soldier’s barely suppressed smirk was anything to go by.

“How did you forgive him?”

It wasn’t exactly what Tony expected the man to say, but he wasn’t all that surprised by the question. He would’ve asked that exact same thing, eventually, if their places were reversed. 

His answer didn’t come right away.

Finally, after giving himself time to find the right words, he said, “It didn’t take me very long to acknowledge, _logically_ , that what happened with Mom and Dad wasn’t his fault. Romania, Germany, Siberia, whatever, that was different, he _was_ in control of his actions— although, even then, there’s his mental state to consider, what with coming off of seventy years of brainwashing and torture. Honestly— and maybe I just do this to sleep better at night, I don’t know— but I tend to just blame that disaster on Rogers. He was the only person James trusted at the time, the only one _clear-headed_ enough to think straight, but he still lead James into multiple battles while withholding information, from _both_ of us. Still, one could argue that those were mistakes James should own up to— and trust me, he has no problem admitting that he was at fault— but anything James did as the Winter Soldier? He was a victim as much as anyone else.”

Stark hummed. “I don’t disagree with you there. Good christ, the shit they did to him… I managed about an hour into the decrypted Hydra files for the Winter Soldier project before I had to empty my stomach into the nearest trash can.”

“I know,” Tony said, barely a whisper this time as he recalled his own nights pouring over those files, guided by the hope that he’d find something that would help him modify BARF _and_ by the desperate need to have his parents’ murder make some sort of sense. Things made _less_ sense after it was over, unfortunately, and Tony buried the files far, far away under the strongest encryptions possible so they would never see the light of day.

“But logic alone is not enough, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” Tony agreed again, some part of him heartened by the effortless way they understood each other. “It _was_ enough for me to offer him a second chance, to bring him into my home, help him with the recovery. But even then, even when I started to get to know him, started to _like_ him, there was still this nagging little part of me that kept whispering…”

“…he killed Mom.”

They both looked at each other then, a moment of shared grief, needing no words to elaborate on the impact their parents’ death had on them.

“But you got past that, didn’t you? The way you two are… I mean, yeah, to your point, he _is_ completely gorgeous, but it can’t just be about the sex—”

“ _Amazing_ sex.”

“—because you don’t defy the multiverse itself just for a good lay. Hell, you don’t that for a good _friend_. And the way you _look_ at him, fuck… You _love_ him, without hesitation, without qualifiers. I just— how do you go from Siberia to that?”

Tony thought back to the BARF session that became the turning point of his entire relationship with James. “The way it happened with us was probably messier and more complicated that it needed to be, but there was just this moment when I finally realized that I didn’t want to cling to that anger anymore. God, it was—” Tony stopped to blink away sudden tears. “James was on his fucking knees on front of me, apologizing, begging for forgiveness and I just realized… Mom and Dad, they were _gone_ , and nothing was going to change that. It didn’t matter how hard I grieved or who I punished… Dead people don’t care, but James and I, we were still alive, stumbling through this fucking minefield others have left behind for us… I already cared about him then, I probably already _loved_ him, even if I didn’t know it yet, but in that moment, it became painfully clear to me, for the first time, how badly I just wanted for both of us to be happy. So I just… let go. I finally let Mom and Dad rest in peace and I let them go.”

Tony closed his eyes, overwhelmed for a moment by the memories.

Stark gave him a minute of silence to compose himself, which Tony used to discreetly swipe at his wet eyes. When he locked gazes with James again, the man frowned when he saw what must’ve been a pained expression on Tony’s face, so Tony tried to wordlessly placate him with a smile and a shake of his head. James didn’t appear entirely convinced, but he must’ve understood Tony’s desire to have this candid conversation with his counterpart because the super soldier made no move to come over. 

“I know that probably doesn’t help much,” Tony finally admitted after taking a deep, fortifying breath. “Unfortunately, there isn’t a how-to guide to forgiving the brainwashed assassin you’re falling in love with who also happens to have killed your parents.”

Stark bumped their knees together, prompting Tony to look at him. “It does help, actually. I know talking about our feelings is like eating glass, so I appreciate the candor. Coming from anyone else, the whole ‘just forgive him and let go’ crap would’ve been empty platitudes, but you… you _understand_ and it helps, I think, knowing that if I let myself be vulnerable enough to, uh— to _let go_ , that there won’t be a knife in the back waiting for me.”

“He wouldn’t do that to you,” Tony assured automatically, but then grimaced at his own words, “and yeah, I know, I’m completely biased on this, so take that however you want. James is everything to me and I trust him, in a way that’s new and terrifying and _amazing_. But I did spend three months with _your_ Bucky too and the only difference I see between them is the fact that Bucky never got the chance to get his life back on track like mine did.”

He glanced back over to the lab. Loki and Strange were arguing back and forth about something, heads pressed closed over some ancient tome, while James and Bucky conversed quietly.

“I’m not saying you have to fall in love with him like I did,” Tony continued quietly, never quite taking his eyes off James, “I’m not even saying you two have to become friends. All I’m saying is that you have the ability to help him, to change his whole life if you really put some effort into it. Hell, not even that much effort, if you’re not feeling ambitious. I gave you my notes on BARF, it’ll take you one night in the lab to modify the system for him. Just one night, but it’ll make all the difference in the world for him.”

Tony sighed, then continued when his counterpart didn’t say anything. “He’s alone right now and he needs people in his life who aren’t Rogers, who aren’t going to expect him to be some idolized version of himself. Rogers looks at him and he sees a connection to his past, he sees his _best pal_ who just needs a little encouragement to become that guy again, but that’s not how it works, not after everything that happened. You and I both know that. There’s shit that happens, shit that changes you _so much_ that you can never go back to who you were before. Being alone though, now that makes you desperate, _vulnerable_ , we know that too, and the worst thing would be for that desperation to drive him back into Rogers’ waiting arms, all because he had no one else to turn to.”

It was Stark’s turn to let out a sigh, the perfect picture of contemplation with his arms crossed and his gaze distant. 

Finally, he offered quietly, “I already decided I was going to help him out, you know,” he glanced at Tony, “without needing your little lecture here.”

His words weren’t unkind though and Tony smiled, something warm settling inside him. “Good. It’s always good to have evidence that we’re not the assholes Rogers and the rest them believe us to be.” 

“No, definitely not. We’re part-time assholes, at best.”

“Mm-hmm. Mostly to ignorant government officials, rude reporters, and former co-workers who refuse to act like adults, right?”

They both looked at each other then, sporting identical smirks, and Tony was openly glad that _something_ good came out of this disaster. He would have never sacrificed James’ happiness and safety willingly, not even to help their counterparts in a different universe, but the worst part of this already happened, whether they liked it or not, and it gave him some comfort to know that at least two other lives would change, possibly for the better, after all was said and done.  

Stark’s expression softened then, something almost wistful. “I know our lives diverged after Siberia,” he spoke quietly, “but I think I, uh— I think I’m finally at a place where I want to move on from all of that anger too, and not just in some logical, ‘look at the facts’ sort of way. God, when I look at you two, I can’t help but like what I see— and no, not like that,” Stark met Tony’s waggled eyebrows with a withering glare, “I mean, I like the look of this _happiness_ you found, this sense of peace. I’m so fucking tired of carrying around all these grudges. Getting even one off my shoulders would feel nice right about now.”

“It’s not an easy thing.”

“Is anything ever easy with us?”

Tony met his companion’s knowing look with his own. “It’s worth it though. Fuck, it’s so worth it. Again, biased, I’m completely biased, whatever, but I have to say this. If you don’t make room for him in your life, even just a tiny bit of room, you’re missing out on something amazing.”

Stark considered him for one long moment, head cocked to the side, but he didn’t say anything when he looked away and Tony didn’t press him for more. 

For a few minutes, they sat in companionable silence, watching as the two mages were putting away their magical supplies while James was explaining something to Bucky.

“You know what?”

Tony hummed in question.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day and I’ve finally come to a conclusion.”

“What’s that?”

“Mine’s definitely more handsome.”

“Excuse me?” Tony turned to his counterpart, pretending to be thoroughly affronted while trying not to laugh.

“I’m serious,” Stark nodded gravely, “just look at him. With that beard gone and his hair all short now, he looks just like those pictures of him in the Smithsonian. So much better.”

“Um, have you seen my James? Look at _him_ ,” Tony said and then followed his own order, sighing wistfully, “god, he looks amazing in that leather jacket. So damn sexy. Oh, and did you _see_ how those jeans sit on his ass? Damn near illegal is how!”

“Eh,” Stark wiggled his hand, but his shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter. “The floppy hair, it still gets to me.” 

“No, no, listen, the floppy hair, that’s the best part! You know, because it gives me something to hold on to when I have my c—”

Tony didn’t finish that terribly lewd statement because his counterpart thrust a hand in Tony’s face and promptly shoved him off the couch. Tony just cackled all the way down.

“Ugh, now I hate _you_ ,” Stark declared, but his eyes betrayed him. There was something light there, something less burdened and it had taken Tony a long time before he began seeing that look in the mirror himself. 

“Yeah, yeah. I know you do,” Tony chuckled. He sat up, but didn’t bother getting off the floor, choosing to just lean against the couch instead.

“The worst part is, I can’t even take the moral high ground here,” Stark grumbled, “because I would’ve said the exact same thing. Ugh, we’re terrible, why are we like this? Remind me to buy Rhodey a gift for putting up with us for thirty years. Pepper, too for that matter.”

“You think we can get away with wine and heels for both?”

“Rhodey would rock a pair of stilettos and we both know it. Hell, he  _did_ , back in ’93.”

“Oh god, don’t bring that back. We swore never to talk about that!”

Stark grinned. “Doesn’t count when I’m talking to myself though, now does it?” He offered his hand and pulled Tony up along with him.

Tony’s eyes found James and Bucky once he was upright and his gaze softened into something undeniably fond. “Take care of him, would you? I promise you won’t regret it.”

Stark didn’t answer, just kept his eyes on the two super soldiers, who were now getting up, about to leave the lab, but Tony was encouraged by what he saw in his counterpart’s eyes. 

Determination, curiosity, _longing_.

Tony smiled.

_They’ll be just fine_

_***_

The next day, the portal was ready, waiting patiently for the group of people gathered around it. Gratitude and good luck wishes were exchanged, genuine smiles and amused laughter, but the goodbyes were brief, everyone eager to get back to their lives.

Loki and Strange stepped through the portal first. Then, their hands intertwined, Tony and James exchange one last look with their counterparts, before taking their own step into the portal together. 

For a moment, darkness, _nothingness_ , before the world around them rushed right back, surrounding them with the familiar sounds and the warmth of the Compound, where they were met with the familiar faces of their family and friends and promptly tackled to the ground by two over-eager teenagers.

They were finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~THE END~~
> 
> (sort of)
> 
> (epilogue to come on Sunday)


	17. Epilogue

Tony was still bleary eyed from a long (but productive and necessary) night down at the lab, which was why when he turned to leave the kitchen so he could go find a comfortable bed to pass out in (any bed, it didn’t matter at this point), he nearly collided with a broad, shirt-clad chest.

Strong hands on his shoulders saved both him and the half-empty cup of coffee still in his hand from ending up on the floor. 

“Careful there, Stark. Steady now.”

Tony blinked the sandy blurriness out of his eyes so he could actually focus on the super soldier in front of him. Barnes held onto him for a few more seconds, probably making sure Tony was steady on his feet, before finally letting go.

“Sorry about that, it’s been a long night,” Tony rubbed at his eye and as if on cue, a yawn forced its way out of him. He took a sip of coffee to compensate for it, but then grimaced at the mug immediately. How long was he down here, milling around half-asleep, that his coffee was already lukewarm? 

The other man squinted at him. “It’s two o’clock in the afternoon.”

Whoops, so his engineering binge may have lasted longer than he realized. No wonder he was out of it.

Granted, his brain was already more alert again, coming back online bit by bit now that there was something interesting to focus on. 

_James “Bucky” Barnes._

Always interesting.

The super soldier had been away, visiting Shuri in Wakanda for the final rounds of trigger removal procedures and although he’d been back at the Compound for a few days, they hadn’t had an opportunity to catch up, both because they were busy _and_ because Tony still wasn’t sure how to approach _this_ Bucky Barnes for anything more than a brief conversation. 

“Day, night, it’s all starts to run together after the seventeenth hour. What about you? How was Wakanda? I heard that it’s good news.” Tony mentioned, both to steer the conversation away from his sleeping habits _and_ because he genuinely wanted to know.

“Great news, yeah. Still hard to believe it, but my head’s finally clean.” The super soldier’s expression turned sheepish. “The Princess, she’s been real sweet, even when she found out I was technically a different Bucky Barnes. Just shrugged and went ‘Well, you need fixing too, don’t you? Now come on, I’ve been waiting months to use this tech!’”

Tony rolled his eyes, but the head shake that followed was fond. “Told you she’s a good kid. Can’t wait for her and Peter and the rest of these ridiculously smart kids to take over the world and become our benevolent overlords.”

“I’m sure it’ll be swell, yeah,” Barnes laughed as he looked down at the metal fingers of his new vibranium arm, watching as his hand flexed. The tech was up to the usual high Wakandan standards, but Tony personally preferred the arm on the other Barnes (but maybe that was just him being biased). 

Barnes’ smile turned almost shy then, which would’ve been an odd sight— _Winter Soldier, shy?_ — had Tony not spent two months with a different version of Barnes and had seen _this_ Barnes’ own moment of vulnerability after the switch.

“I owe _you_ a lot of thanks too, Stark. The Retro Framing sessions, the old-school therapy you offered to pay for, those have been a godsend. I mean, yeah, removing the triggers, that was a necessity, but not waking up screaming every night? That’s a _blessing_. Feels like I can breathe again, like I’m actually _living_ now, so uh— yeah, thank you for that.”

Tony drummed his fingers against the mug, trying to ignore the flush crawling up his neck, and he shrugged self-consciously, unable to meet the super soldier’s eye. “Eh, I’m rich, it’s no big deal, and to be fair, the other Tony deserves most of the credit anyways. I just took the notes he brought over and made the necessary modifications to the BARF system. Easy peasy.”

Barnes didn’t seem sold on Tony’s attempt at self-deprecation, but he didn’t say anything. Probably realizing that they were still awkwardly standing in the middle of the kitchen, the man just clapped Tony on the shoulder with another murmured “Thank you,” and then headed over to stand in Tony’s earlier spot in front of the coffee maker. As Barnes poured himself a cup of coffee, Tony shuffled over and wordlessly thrust his own mug out at the man. Barnes studied him for one long moment, but then refilled the coffee without questioning Tony’s desire to stay awake even longer.

It took a long, generous sip of the caffeinated, bitter goodness before Tony’s awkwardness in the face of genuine gratitude faded. The smile he graced Barnes with now bordered on sly.

“Okay, I gotta know, since you’re the only one who can actually tell me - which one is better? The fancy Wakandan tech arm or the Tony Stark original?”

Barnes had to hold his mug out and away from him so it wouldn’t spill due his sudden bout of laughter. “Really, Stark? That’s what you wanna know?”

Tony just grinned at him. “Yeah, really. Come on, please, satisfy my scientific curiosity.”

After stifling most of his mirth, Barnes leaned over conspiratorially. “Okay, well, between you and me, Stark, I gotta say… your arm is definitely the best.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm,” Barnes nodded emphatically and then took a sip of his coffee, “and when Princess Shuri asked me that exact same thing a week ago, I said _her_ tech was better.”

“What? No, no, that’s cheating! You gotta tell me! It’s gotta be mine, right? I mean, did you see how shiny and pretty it was? And the nanotech that went into that thing, oh god, and the _sensors_ —”

“Nope, I ain’t saying a thing. Don’t want either one of you mad at me.”

“Well, too late, Terminator, I’m already mad,” Tony practically pouted, “didn’t know you were such a spoil-sport. You’ll at least let me do the maintenance on that fancy cyborg arm, right?”

When Barnes did nothing but give Tony an indulgent look, Tony let the topic go— _for now_ — and settled in next to Barnes, leaning against the counter.

After another sip, Tony decided to asked, “So are you sticking around then? At the Compound, I mean?”

“Yeah, I think so. Is that alright? I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

“No, yeah, of course it’s fine. I mean, we can always find you a place of your own, that wouldn’t be a big deal.” Here, that same familiar selfishness came back to whisper ideas into Tony’s ear. “But the Compound, this is where all the fun is at. I’m sure we can make it worth your while. Unless you, uh— you don’t _want_ to stay?” 

“No, I do, it’s just that…” Barnes rubbed the back of his neck, “well, there’s a reason I’m skulking around here in the West Wing.”

“Yeah, I was gonna ask. I mean, not that you’re not allowed or anything, but I haven’t seen much of you over here after our counterparts took off.”

“Well, s’been a whirlwind after coming back, ya know? I just kept to my own quarters the few days I was here, then you sent me off to Wakanda, but now that I’m back… I’m mostly just trying to avoid Steve and the rest of that lot, to be honest,” Barnes finally offered, sounding dejected.

“Really? Things still that tense between all of you? Thought you and Rogers would want to make up for lost time.”

A baleful glare met Tony over the rim of the mug.

“Dunno nothin’ about making up for lost time, but I do know I need another sanctimonious lecture like I need a hole in the head.”

Tony snorted unattractively, unable to help himself. 

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing, just that— well, I’m pretty sure I’ve said those exact words once or twice before.”

“It’s true, ain’t it? He gets that _look_ on his face, brows all furrowed, oozing disappointment at you. Makes you feel like a damn child. Problem is, the shit don’t work so well when he’s got no moral ground to stand on.” 

“So my multiverse twin told you a few things, huh?”

“Both him and the other Barnes, yeah. Told me I’ve been allying myself with former Hydra who ain’t all that repentant for her actions. Told me Steve has this annoying _habit_ of lying when it suits his purpose. Reminded me just how fucked up everything was and how none of us ever tried to make things right again.”

Tony hummed, not disagreeing with any of the points, but finding himself a little less anxious and cagey than he would’ve expected. These were touchy topics after all, ones Tony would’ve avoided like the plague, even a year ago. The fact that he hadn’t already bailed on this conversation was a pleasant surprise, if he were honest.

“You think there’s some universe out there,” he remarked, keeping his voice conversational, “where everything’s peachy keen and all the Avengers are this one big happy family that does stuff like movie nights and they all cuddle in one big pile?” 

Barnes made a face. “Ugh, no thank you, makes me claustrophobic just thinkin’ about it. I don’t wanna be smothered by all of Stevie’s bulk, or have the Widow and her deadly thighs anywhere near me. But I guess,” he scrunched up his nose, “if there really _are_ infinite universes, then that universe is about as likely as the one where we’re in love, ain’t it?” 

“That’s the theory, yeah. God, that was one hell of a trip though, wasn’t it?” Tony added, happy that he finally had Barnes to discuss this with. “Seeing our doubles, having you two switched like that, and then that whole… _relationship_ thing. I’m still trying to wrap my head around that little nugget. I mean, uh—” Tony felt the sudden need to backpedal, “I mean, no offense, you’re, uh— you’re great looking and everything, and underneath all that scowling and the brooding, the other Barnes was a great guy too, I’m definitely not saying you’re unloveable or anything, but, uh— jesus christ, this is coming out all wrong. I meant, with our _history_ and everything, it’s hard to, uh—”

“I get it, Stark,” Barnes saved Tony from himself, “hell, I was _there_ , I saw the evidence of their lives together with my own two eyes. For a while, I thought I _was_ that Barnes. Even with all that, I still have a hard time believing it sometimes.”

“Weird, right? Maybe there’s something funky in the water over there. I mean, I kinda get it, after all, we _are_ ridiculously handsome, but did you see how _sappy_ they were with each other?” Tony was teasing now, pretending to sound offended, but he couldn’t help but grin too, remembering how baffled he was at first, watching his counterpart with the other Barnes. He never really saw himself as a tender sort of man nor as one who could voice his feelings quite so… _eloquently_. “It was all those cute, little pet names and dumb, dopey smiles. Disgusting, if you ask me. _Bleh._ ”

“Oh, that display was entirely unnecessary, I agree. I mean, Barnes carrying Stark off for a night of debauchery? I can deal with that. But all that kissing and the touching and the _hand-holding_? Ugh, indecent, I say.” Barnes played right along, smiling too, mischief and mirth turning his eyes a breathtaking bright blue and suddenly Tony had a hard time looking away.

Dammit, okay, so it wasn’t _that_ difficult to see how the two of them could’ve fit together. 

He’d seen the other Barnes smile too, but those moments were always tinged by a soul-deep sadness. Those were smiles offered _despite_ him missing his other half.

This Barnes wasn’t burdened by that sort of grief and now, between the extensive therapy, the clean-shaven look and the short hair, the arm, and those _damn gorgeous_ _eyes_ , Barnes looked years younger and decades lighter. It suited him, Tony realized, and he wasn’t all that surprised by the spark of heat that flared to life in his belly.

Brunets with pretty eyes and biceps the size of Tony’s head may have been the one weakness he didn’t realize he had until now. 

“I gotta admit though,” Barnes went on, oblivious to Tony’s scattered and borderline inappropriate thoughts, “it was good to see them reunited like that. They were… _happy_.”

“Yeah, that was nice actually… It least one version of us is happy, right?”

Barnes nodded. He didn’t meet Tony’s eyes as he shifted from foot to foot, suddenly losing that earlier smile.

“Listen, Stark, about everything that happened _before_ —”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Tony cut in again, knowing exactly where this was going. “I’ve said this to the other Barnes already and I’ll say it to you. It’s been over a year. I’m fine, I’ve moved on.”

“Just because you’ve moved on doesn’t mean I shouldn’t still apologize,” Barnes countered and Tony conceded the point with a shrug. “It’s the only thing I have to offer. I can’t change what happened. All I can do is say that I’m sorry for— well, hell, for _everything_. For causing all that trouble in Germany and Romania, for Siberia, for, uh…”

“For Mom and Dad?”

The weight of Barnes’ guilt was laid bare in his eyes. “Yeah. I’m sorry, Tony. I’m sorry that my actions, whether I was in control or not, hurt you so damn much.”

A weight Tony didn’t even realize had been there lifted a little at those words, making his heart beat a little easier. He said he moved on and he _had_ , but hearing someone offer a sincere apology, that still meant something to him. 

He wasn’t vindictive enough to hold his parents’ death against Barnes, not after he had time to think, to _process_ all the shit that went down in Siberia, to wrap his head around that damn video. 

Fuck, if only Steve had told him earlier, Tony would’ve understood, he would’ve helped, he would’ve—

It didn’t matter what he would’ve done. He supposed some other universe out there had a Steve that believed enough in Tony to take a chance and share the truth, trust him enough to do the right thing.

This wasn’t that universe though, not by a long shot, but Tony could still do the right thing. He still had the capacity to _help_ and it was comforting, freeing even, that it no longer felt like a burden or an obligation. The other universe’s Barnes and Stark played a large part in that, he supposed.

“Thank you for saying that,” Tony said sincerely, “it means a lot. And I, uh— I’m sorry for blasting your arm off.” 

That was all Tony offered and Barnes seemed to accept that, which was good. No need to get _mushy_ about this sort of thing. Better to leave that to their counterparts who seemed much better at the whole _sappy, eternal forgiveness, love, and romance_ thing than the two of them. 

“But no more apologies from you, okay? Between you and the other Barnes, I think everything that needed to be said has been said. I just want the two of us to move on from this. The past sucked royally,  so why don’t we just focus on the future instead?”

“I’d like that,” Barnes said, smiling again, and the damn flutter in Tony’s stomach was _so_ not helping. “Did, uh— did any of the others talk to you while I was gone?”

“Oh, they talked plenty,” Tony remarked ruefully, “but I assume you meant something else?” When Barnes gave him a meaningful look, Tony rolled his eyes. “No, no amends have been made, no friendships rekindled. We’re all basically one bad shouting match away from finding another airport to brawl in. Hell,” Tony grimaced, his thoughts turning bitter and sarcastic, “maybe it’s _my_ fault, maybe they’re waiting on _me_ to apologize. Should I give that a try, you think?”

“Hell no. Whatever mistakes _you_ made, you paid for by having to clean up this damn mess on your own. So, no, if those idiots expect you to apologize, they better be waiting for a long damn time.”

Something about Barnes’ tone made Tony cock his head to the side. “Since when are you all protective of the lowly resident engineer?”

“I spent nearly three months with the other Stark, okay? And that one ran himself ragged trying to fix everything. Too damn skinny, didn’t eat nothin’, didn’t sleep. Dark shadows under those big, sad eyes. Plus, you know, didn’t help that he’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. A lot like you, actually…” That last part was almost a whisper and Barnes looked nervous as he scuffed at the floor with his sneaker. “So, yeah…You try dealing with that for three months and not feel a little protective.”

“Dammit, I gotta go find him and kick my own ass now because that Tony gave you a _terrible_ impression of me,” Tony fell back on humor to relieve the emotional heaviness that settled between them, “I am the complete opposite of sad and pitiful and skinny, thank you very much. Granted though,” Tony scratched at his goatee, “ _his_ Barnes spent his two months here alternating between brooding, sighing sadly and staring off into the distance with those damn doe eyes, or glaring death at Rogers and Maximoff. So, I guess both of our reputations took a little hit.”

“To be fair,” Barnes made a show of tapping his metallic fingers against the mug in thought, “that _does_ actually sound exactly like me.”

Tony grinned again, earlier mirth returning, and it was high time he admitted that he wasn’t just _not running away_ , he was _enjoying_ this conversation. He liked the warmth in his chest, the little bit of heat deep in his belly, and he didn’t particularly want to let any of it go.

He would’ve, _before_ , because he was cautious and jaded and bitter most days, but he’d seen the possibilities, he’d seen one version of himself genuinely _happy_ , and dammit, maybe he just wanted a slice of that happiness for himself. He could afford to be a little selfish, couldn’t he? 

And if selfish meant enjoying a handsome super soldier smiling at him, then so be it.  

“You better not pull that shit around here then,” Tony mock threatened and bumped his shoulder against Barnes’, testing the waters of physical contact and finding _potential_ when Barnes playfully shoved back, “this here is Fun Central, all day, every day.” 

Tony took another sip, or rather tried to, because his coffee cup was empty now. He frowned at it.

As if reading his thoughts, Barnes pulled away from the counter and gestured for the mug, which Tony handed over. He watched as the super soldier walked across the kitchen, over to the sink where he began to rinse the mugs out.

Tony realized he didn’t want to leave this all behind, not yet, and he wet his lips, then cleared his throat before speaking.

“Hey, you know what’s a great way to avoid Rogers?”

Barnes prompted him with a hum as he wiped the mugs with a towel and set them back up into the cupboard.

“Let’s go get some pizza.”

Barnes glanced over his shoulder. “In the cafeteria?”

“No, no, there’s this fantastic place downtown. I know the owner, he’s basically a pizza wizard— hell, he might be an _actual_ wizard, you never know these days— but trust me, his food is to die for. They didn’t have pizza like this back in your day.”

“Downtown? That’s a bit of a drive from here, ain’t it?”

“I mean, yeah, but what better way to get Rogers off our tail? We’ll take one of my cars. You can even pick which bad boy we drive and, if you behave yourself, Frosty, I might even let you drive it _back_.”

“Don’t even have my license yet.”

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

Barnes seemed like he was trying hard not to be amused by Tony’s usual antics, but after a moment, the man’s expression settled on something uncomfortable, anxious even, probably for the first time since this conversation began and the change had Tony suddenly worried.

Crap, did he overstep his bounds? Made everything awkward? Wouldn’t be surprising, since Tony was _shit_ at reading other people’s intentions, but he had hoped…

He wasn’t sure what it was he was hoping for. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make this weird, you don’t have to—”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Barnes interrupted and his broad shoulders slumped in defeat. “I just don’t want you feeling obligated or somethin’. What our counterparts had, it was, uh— it was nice, _really_ nice, but I know we’re not the same.”

“I’m well aware of that too,” Tony insisted, “for better or worse, their lives took them on one path and I have no desire to just, I dunno, _mimic_ what they have. Our lives are our own and who the hell knows where we’ll end up.”

Barnes contemplated Tony’s words for a second. “So this is…”

“Just an offer of pizza and a few Steve-free hours of friendly conversation.”

“And after that? What do we do then?” 

The loaded meaning behind the question was hard to miss and Tony pulled out his best self-assured smirk. “Whatever the hell we want.”

The man’s discomfort began to fade, replaced by curious blue eyes that now seemed to take in _all of Tony_ , as if for the first time. 

“Whatever we want, huh?”

The easygoing smile returned too as Tony hummed an affirmative, and that wasn’t helping Tony stay objective either because dammit, Barnes _was_ handsome, there were no _ifs_ or _buts_ about it, and a handsome guy checking Tony out like this was _doing_ things to him. 

 _Things_ that Tony needed to think about long and hard (pun _possibly_ intended) before actually doing anything about them.

“So… pizza?” he prompted again.

“Pizza sounds fantastic. You sure you’re up for it though?” There was that mischief in Barnes’ voice again and it had Tony grinning. “You were dead on your feet when I came in here. Wouldn’t want you falling asleep at the wheel, old man.”

“Oh, Snowflake, you have so much to learn about the ways of Tony Stark.”

“Let me guess. Lesson number one - sleep is for the weak?”

The teasing notes in the other man’s voice, the playful quirk of Barnes’ eyebrow, the damn blue eyes that were too expressive for their own good, it all had Tony wondering whether this was how their doppelgängers had started down their own shared path too.

“Oh, you and I are going to get along just fine. Now, come on, Robocop, we haven’t got all day!”

Tony wrapped his hand around the metallic wrist and tugged Barnes away from the sink. The man obediently followed, grumbling about pushy, sleep-deprived engineers, but smiling that same captivating smile that had Tony not wanting to let go.

Neither one of them had any way to know where they would end up, but Tony realized he didn’t mind taking this first step to finding out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all of you who stuck around for this rollercoaster of a story! And a special thank you to those who took the time to leave lovely comments, even if most of them were yelling at me about the evil, evil angst. ;)
> 
> There's always a chance I'll dabble in this AU at a later time (check in on alt!Tony and alt!Bucky, maybe?) and if I do, I'll post it separately and make this into a series, but no guarantees currently, since I need to focus back exclusively on WE. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the ride! <3


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